Even Hero's have the Right to Bleed
by Danielle
Summary: Delves into the past and present life that Paris has managed to keep a secret for so long. The crews patience is stretched thin and chances to get home are looming. But at what cost?
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Paramount Pictures, The wonderful writer, producers, actors, makeup artists, plot designers…they all own or have a right to the "Official" Star Trek Voyager and its creation. Where as I, a humble if not partially obsessive fan have claimed rights to only Borrow characters for a story of my own. No financial benefit will be coming my way, and no harm is intended.  
  
Authors notes: Once upon a time, long long ago I began this story. At the beginning of season six actually, and I have been periodically working on it ever since. However it would never have come close to being finished without my good friend Naomi's help! Her insights, comments and continuous corrections of my rather horrendous grammar helped me greatly. I don't Think I could have wished for a better editor. Thank you Naomi! Also a thanks to Jessica, who's opinions and encouragement helped a great deal.  
  
Rating: PG 13, it has violence and maybe some semi-swear words.  
  
-consider this alternate universe material, although in my mind it is perfectly acceptable as Startrek reality (  
  
  
  
Even Hero's Have the Right to Bleed.  
  
The walls were a cold grey, towering around him and watching his every move, but he wasn't paying any attention to the walls right now. No, he was paying attention to the three people who were walking him through these cold corridors. Three beings who seemed to be talking about something very important, but he couldn't hear them properly because he was to busy trying to keep up with their long strides. They were so big.  
  
"He seems to have the potential, but he will need to be studied before we can be certain it's there." The tall man with hair as black as his dog spoke assuredly. This man scared him. He looked mean.  
  
"I understand that Sental, but he is still so young. He is only four years old; we usually don't start their training until they are six or seven, that's when we are sure that they can be used." She seemed nicer, her voice was soft, but he didn't like her either. She kept glancing at him nervously, as if he could read her thoughts. Not likely, because he knew he couldn't do that. Adults were so silly sometimes.  
  
"Our head telepath already did the boy's reading, and his report came out positive. I trust his opinion, and he says that he is sure this child has the skill." Sental looked down at him, his eyes were a cold grey and his lips were puckered in thought. "Not many humans are born with this ability, and those that are we can't use because their families are to much of a risk. His family handed him over to us, saying they wanted him brought up right; to use his skills to full potential. He is ours now, and we can definitely use him."  
  
"While I agree that we can use him, I still think he is to young! I know we have a limited amount of humans in this program, and those we do have don't have his 'ability', but is it necessary to take such a chance at this early a stage?" Sental focused his cold eyes on her for a moment and stopped walking, forcing the little procession to block the nearly empty corridor. He turned to face Sul'ta, a Vulcan who had remained quiet thus far.  
  
"What does that logic of yours think?" The Vulcan looked down at the young boy for a moment, before answering.  
  
"I think it is risky to introduce him to the project so soon, but he does seem more perceptive than the average human child at this age. I believe we can train him without a problem."  
  
"Good. That is what I wanted to hear. I want you to get the team together and debrief them. We start the boy's training tomorrow, bright and early." Sul'ta nodded and walked away from the group. Sental turned towards the women again. "Show him his room, get some food into him and explain the situation if you want."  
  
"Yes sir." She nodded and Sental left them alone. She looked down at the boy now in her charge. "Well Thomas, I think it's time you saw your new room." He looked up at her, his blue eyes confused.  
  
"I don't need a room here. I have one at home, on Earth."  
  
"No, you don't have a room there anymore, you're going to be staying on this moon for a while. It's your new home."  
  
"But, I don't want to stay here."  
  
She looked down at the boy, annoyed. "What you want doesn't matter. This is the way it is. You are going to have to deal with that." She began to walk away, and he hurried to catch up with her. He knew he shouldn't make adults upset with him, he always listened to them, just like his father made him. But he was starting to get scared, because he didn't like it here, the people were scary, and they lied.  
  
He soon found out that he had every reason to be afraid of them.  
  
They were a part of Starfleet that wasn't supposed to exist.  
  
  
  
The ship went about its daily business, each person on board performing their assigned tasks to the best of their ability. Many people were too busy to really think about the date, or its significance, but there were a select few that were very aware of the date. It was the anniversary, after all, that Thomas Paris had left them.  
  
One year ago, he had simply walked into Captain Janeway's ready room, handed over his commbadge, his single pip, and stated that he wished to leave Voyager. The news of his resignation had traveled through Voyager like water through a sieve. Very quickly everyone had learned that he was leaving, and that he wasn't giving any particular excuse as to why he was abandoning them. As would be expected, the emotions and speculations surrounding his resignation ran wild.  
  
Many people had fallen back on their original beliefs that he was a traitor, a user. He did what was best for himself, and didn't care much for the consequences. Considering his checkered past it was very easy to believe, but there were still a few on board Voyager that demanded an answer from him. They demanded an explanation, and they had every right to demand, because he had been a part of this ship's finely tuned family for six years. He was a senior officer, the chief conn-officer, he was the doctor's assistant, and he was their friend. Or so they had thought.  
  
When they had asked him why he was leaving, he had never given them a straight answer. Oh, he had thrown many reasons for leaving at them. He'd stated that he had never fit in, not belonging to the Marquis or Starfleet in the first place. He stated that he no longer had the desire to remain on Voyager, and while it had been great while it had lasted, he knew it was time to move on. He insisted that they didn't need him anymore, that they had plenty of capable pilots and people much smarter than him who would be suitable assistants to the doctor. He had dropped hints of a major piloting opportunity being offered by the Kinkari; they were the beings whom Voyager had been visiting and trading with.  
  
He had apologized to them, to his friends, when he said goodbye. It had been difficult for everyone. Naomi had given him a small picture which she had drawn, to remember her by. He had packed one bag, leaving all his possessions save some clothing and one or two other items, on Voyager. Captain Janeway, not being in a position to refuse his resignation, had pressed a commbadge into his hand, saying that if he changed his mind before they were too far away, then he should call.  
  
Five hours after his resignation he was gone.  
  
Several weeks after his departure Voyager had grown very lucky and found a wormhole that would bring them four years closer to home. It was only a temporary wormhole however, and they had flown through it immediately, leaving Tom Paris behind for good. The members of Voyager rejoiced in their luck with the wormhole, and slowly, the ship adapted to the loss of their former pilot and friend. So it was understandable how shocked they were, on this day, when he just 'appeared' on the bridge, standing by the helm, looking as real as the day he had left. His blue gaze had quickly scanned over the whole bridge, assessing the situation, and then he had calmly turned toward his Captain.  
  
"Permission to come aboard, captain?"  
  
"Permission…granted." 


	2. 

Captain Kathryn Janeway of the starship Voyager, was momentarily frozen in shock as she stared at Tom Paris. What the hell was he doing here? Suddenly appearing out of thin air on her bridge. She had never thought she'd see him again. After a quick moment her years of experience as a Starfleet officer and Captain kicked in, and she got down to business.  
  
"Mr. Paris, do you require medical assistance?" She heard her voice come out sounding more clipped then she had intended.  
  
"No, thank you Captain." He stood calmly waiting for her to make the next move, and his apparent ease at the whole situation began to irritate her. He was standing on her bridge, after being gone for a year, and the only thing he could do was reply politely to her question? She would have expected a little more from him. Something along the lines of 'Hey guys, I missed you and I'm so glad to be here!' Or at least some sort of explanation for his sudden appearance. Instead he stood there, waiting, and by looking at him she couldn't begin to guess what he was thinking.  
  
"Please join me in my ready room Mr. Paris. Lieutenant Kim." She turned her attention to Harry Kim, who was staring in shock at his old friend. He blinked and looked at her.  
  
"Call a senior staff meeting, immediately."  
  
"Uhh, yes Captain." He spared one last incredulous glance at Tom before performing his task. A moment later she found herself leading Tom, Chakotay, Tuvok and Harry into her ready room. Everyone quickly found their chairs, and the room was quiet as they waited for the rest of the staff to arrive. She took that moment to look him over.  
  
He still looked the same, tall, maybe a little more built underneath his clothing? She wasn't sure about that. He stood calmly, his arms behind his back, he was watching them all carefully, obviously gauging their responses. He had a familiar glint in his eyes, one that had become familiar to her after five years of association with him. It was the self- assured, arrogant glint that he had when he was satisfied, or happy that something was going his way. Right now, it made her blood boil.  
  
Who was he to suddenly appear on her ship out of the blue and stand there looking happy with himself? Did he think he could just leave and come back whenever it suited him? She didn't doubt that he would think like that, he had always been self-involved. She wasn't running a vacation ship here, it was a Starfleet vessel, with Starfleet rules and expectations. He was mocking them and their beliefs, and she did not appreciate that one bit.  
  
((/\))  
  
Tom stood facing the senior staff. Their silence was unnerving him as they stared, lost in their own thoughts. He didn't move to take a seat, but remained standing by the door. He would only sit down if they offered the option to him, but he was pretty sure it was the last thing on their minds at the moment. So he stood straight, his hands behind his back, locked together in a white knuckle grip. That was his only indication of how nervous he was, and he didn't want anyone to see it.  
  
They looked good. They all looked the same, despite a few haircuts. He noted with approval that Baytart was their Chief Conn Officer. The intelligent, quick thinking man had been the first person on Tom's replacement recommendation list. At the moment though, Baytart looked decidedly uncomfortable with the situation. That was understandable. Captain Janeway finally decided that the silence had gone on long enough and she began the meeting.  
  
"Mr Paris. It seems you have decided to grace us with your presence, but I want to know exactly how it was that you managed to arrive here. We are five years away from your last known location." Well, it wasn't exactly the welcoming he had been hoping for, but he hadn't really been expecting much more. Besides that, she had just asked a very good question.  
  
"Actually Captain, I don't know how I arrived here. I was just about to begin my shift, I walked through a door and found myself standing on the Bridge. Took me completely by surprise."  
  
Her eyes narrowed. "Really? You didn't seem too surprised." Her words were sharp, and laced with sarcasm. He found himself staring at her for a moment, hurt by the accusations. Immediately he closed himself off from her, standing stiffer, making sure none of the hurt he felt showed in his eyes. It looked like they were still angry with him for leaving, not that he could blame them. He forced his voice to remain steady and emotionless as he answered.  
  
"I suppose I didn't seem surprised enough then Captain. But I'm sorry to say I have no idea how I arrived on your doorstep."  
  
After a stressed pause she turned to Harry and Tuvok. "I want you two to figure out how Mr. Paris arrived here as soon as possible."  
  
"Aye Captain." Harry stood and quickly shuffled out of the room, not sparing Tom a glance. Tuvok nodded but he felt the Vulcan's cool, calculating gaze linger on him a moment before he followed Harry out the door. Ever the suspicious Tom thought, and noticed Baytart squirming slightly in his seat. Janeway also noticed the man's discomfort and dismissed him, seeing that he served no purpose other than to show Tom that Voyager didn't need him. Tom could hear her accusing voice in his mind saying 'we have a Chief Helm officer and don't need you.' Well, he was very aware of that fact, and had been aware of it before he had even left Voyager in the first place.  
  
So far Chakotay had only found himself staring at the former pilot, who was standing stiffly across the table from him. Whatever the man was feeling was remaining a secret only to himself, and that bothered Chakotay. He prided his ability to read people by watching them, or at least gage their current temperament. For a quick moment he wondered if Tom was feeling anything about this situation other than the boredom he was portraying. If he remembered Tom correctly, it was probably all an act.  
  
He let his gaze travel over the mans frame, looking for changes. His back was straight, shoulders squared, arms held behind him in a soldiers rest position. He looked disciplined; maybe he had been learning something useful this past year after all. That was un-called for! He reprimanded himself, but he didn't feel guilty for the thought. In fact he almost wanted to laugh at it; A disciplined Tom Paris was something he didn't think was possible.  
  
He looked at Paris' face, and saw his eyes soaking in any visible information he could find, yet not revealing a thing. He remembered another time when Tom had been like this, and that was back in the Marquis days, and at the beginning of Voyagers long journey home. It was an arrogant man that Chakotay had met and greatly disliked then, and disliked now. Finally, Chakotay decided to say something to let the younger man know he was still there.  
  
"That's a nice uniform you've got there. It's fairly different from the one I remember the Kinkari officers wearing." Paris' gaze fell on him for a moment before he answered.  
  
"Yeah well, the Kinkari felt that I better suited this uniform than their usual black. Appearance means a lot in their culture."  
  
"I'm sure it does."  
  
Tom didn't look surprised when B'Elanna suddenly growled and stormed out of the room, sparing his former girlfriend a casual glance before staring ahead once more. Why that little… Chakotay fumed at Paris' indifference, his protectiveness of B'Elanna surging through his system. He completely understood her situation, which was one of abandonment, and betrayal. It was exactly how he felt, only not on so personal a level.  
  
For the next two hours Chakotay controlled his temper as he, the captain, and Paris decided on the man's fate until they figured out what was going on. Paris was going to get his old quarters back, which hadn't been changed since his departure; nobody had really wanted to spend the time moving all his stuff out. They hadn't needed the room for any reason so it had remained locked up. Paris was also going to receive replicator rations and holodeck privileges for the time being. Until then he was restricted to the sickbay, mess hall, holodeck two and his quarters. He would be Neelix's assistant for now, in order to earn his keep. He agreed without argument.  
  
When he was dismissed Chakotay stood and followed him out the door and onto the bridge. The sudden silence hung like a thick blanket, aimed at suffocating the pilot as he walked to the turbolift, indifferent to the glares. Tuvok silently followed the Man's retreating form, no doubt to ensure he arrived at his quarters. The rest of Chakotay's shift passed in a tense silence, except for the occasional report. Why did Paris always have to cause so much trouble?  
  
Upon his dismissal Tom turned sharply on his heel and headed out of the ready room, and onto the bridge. He immediately noticed the room's hushed tones turn to complete silence, no doubt because of him. He felt the angry, accusing, and confused eyes following him as he moved steadily towards the turbolift. This was just what he needed, a whole ship of people furious at him. He'd had enough of that in the past, it seemed every ship he stepped on didn't like him. Maybe he should just buy his own damn ship so he wouldn't have to worry about it anymore.  
  
Stepping onto the turbolift he heard the quiet footsteps of Tuvok following him, and a moment later the Vulcan was standing silently beside him, waiting for the doors to slide shut. Should he say anything to the Vulcan?  
  
"Deck Four." He ordered, and stood silently, waiting. He didn't wait long.  
  
"I would like to apologize." The Vulcan's smooth voice broke the uncomfortable, or at least what Tom deemed uncomfortable, silence. Tom looked at the man sideways, making sure none of the surprise he felt at the apology showed.  
  
"For what?"  
  
"I was taken by surprise upon your arrival and did not take a moment to welcome you back." Tom smiled at that. It looked like someone had missed him after all.  
  
"Thanks Tuvok. I appreciate it." The turbolift door opened and Tom stepped out, turning to look at Tuvok. "I missed you too." As the doors slid silently shut Tom saw the look of satisfaction that crossed his friend's normally impassive features. He shook his head, still smiling, until he heard footsteps coming from down the hall, and forcing his smile away with a look of disinterest. He took his time walking to his quarters, ignoring several glares he received from passing crewmembers. Juliana, Chris, Naniks, they all glared at him as they walked by; Chris had even taken the step of knocking Tom with his shoulder as he passed. Tom ignored it. Give them time, he thought. They'll come around.  
  
When he arrived at his quarters he hesitated a moment, staring at the gray door. God it had been a long time since he'd been standing here. He never thought he'd be standing here again; he was still having trouble accepting that he was back on Voyager. He took a deep breath and opened his door, stepping into the dark room. It was musty. It had the smell of the disused.  
  
"Computer, lights." Oh yeah, this was his room. Everything that he had left behind seemed to be present, the only problem being that it was all lying on the floor, and many things were broken. Now, considering that nobody had been in his room for the last year he had expected some damage left due to some battles, but this was a little extreme. It looked like the crew was going all out to make him feel welcome.  
  
"Computer, time." He demanded, keeping his voice even.  
  
"The time is 0430." That gave him three hours to clean before he went to grab a meal. He initiated the privacy lock, and turned to his couch. It was lying on its back, legs sticking out in the air. Easily, he flipped it back up, and sat down with a heavy thump. He looked at the old paper books, broken lamp, cushions, glass, clothing and everything else scattered around his quarters. He would rather be trying to figure out how he got here, and see if he could go talk to anyone, but instead he had to clean up this mess. He needed to see his friends, see how they were doing, though he doubted they would want to see him.  
  
He stood and began setting furniture straight. Despite what Janeway, and everyone else probably thought, he had been extremely surprised to find himself standing on the bridge of his old ship. Especially since the place he had expected to be in when walking through those doors was a ring. Actually, it was more of a cage, with a forcefield for the bars. He stopped in the mid process of picking up some books, and looked down at his uniform clad body. Chakotay had made a good observation, noticing the difference in his uniform from the Kinkari. Tom had actually been surprised that he had noticed.  
  
Indeed, his uniform was very different from the Kinkari. Tom stood and turned to the large mirror in his bathroom. Nice of them to leave it intact. His uniform wasn't even made from the same kind of material as the Kinkari military uniforms. No, his was tailored; hand made, and had had a lot of thought put in behind it. He wasn't lying when he said they had wanted him to look good.  
  
He fingered the dark brown vest, the strong, smooth material slipped under his fingers. The vest ended at his waist, and it was heavy. It was just a decoration, embroidered with the words of some warrior out of the Kinkari's history books. Though he knew how to speak their language fluently, he couldn't read it, he'd never wanted to learn. He stared at himself in the mirror. He hadn't looked at himself for the last year, he hadn't changed much. His skin was still fair, the deep brown's of his vest and pants making him seem even paler. He did notice that he looked stronger now, a result of all the extra training he'd been given.  
  
He shrugged out of the vest and dropped it carelessly on the floor, still staring at his reflection. The shirt he still had on was tight, revealing the muscle that had been hidden by the vest. Its material was soft, he barley noticed its presence. He was sure if there had been a breeze, it would have gone right through the fine material to caress his skin. There were several slits running parallel to the ground on his back, its sleeves travelling down to his elbows. He had no clue what the point of it was, maybe it looked more manly. His pants were simple. The same dark brown as his vest, though they were made from a thick material they were very easy to move in. They reminded him of earth style karate pants. He had no socks.  
  
He kept staring at his reflection. Had it been a year since he'd left? It felt like much longer. Through all those days he had worn these clothes. He'd always worn these clothes, except when they washed them. They were his only clothes. He grabbed the base of his shirt and pulled it off, tossing it with his vest. He looked at the pile, and smiled. He didn't need permission to take off his uniform now did he! He could wear whatever he wanted! His pants and underwear joined the pile and he searched his floor for some clothing, finding a nice large shirt and jeans. His own clothes. His.  
  
He glared down at the pile of brown clothing, picked it up, and tossed it into the recycler. He'd had enough of that particular outfit thank you very much. He went back into his bedroom and looked at the floor, at all of the brown clothing he owned. They followed his uniform into the recycler, where it was transformed into usable energy.  
  
He'd had enough of that colour to last a lifetime. 


	3. 

Neelix bustled about in his kitchen, cleaning the pots from dinner. They overloaded his sinks, as usual, and were caked with sauces, doughs, and other 'concoctions' that he had made for the evening meal. And it had been an excellent meal, if he did say so himself, one of his finest yet; but he couldn't get his mind focused around how wonderful it was like he usually could. This was because he, like every other being on this ship, had heard of Tom Paris' return.  
  
The news of the pilot's mysterious appearance had taken him completely by surprise. He'd never thought that he would see his friend again, never be able to set things straight with the man. Now he could. He was just worried that Tom wouldn't accept his apology. Neelix began scrubbing at a large black, semi-burnt pot.  
  
When Tom had left, one year ago, Neelix had been positive that the man would come back. Tom had left them once before, when Neelix had still been fairly new on the ship, and that had turned into a huge undercover project to draw out Voyager's traitor. At the time Neelix had been very into the role of portraying Tom Paris as a man that would be greatly missed. He'd wanted to make sure that Tom received the recognition he deserved, as a valuable crewmember, and as a friend. He couldn't explain how happy he'd been when he'd realized the whole thing had been a big hoax, and his friend hadn't left for good. And that was what Tom's departure, one year ago, had come across as: another big hoax. Well, he had been wrong.  
  
When it had become apparent that Tom had really left Voyager, for good, in that definitely not coming back permanent kind of way, he had spent a long time berating himself for not saying good bye properly. He'd merely stood in the mess hall and given Tom a quick hug, all for show. Talak he felt so guilty for that. Well, now Tom was back and Neelix had made some tomato soup for his friend; with real tomatoes from the hydroponics bay. Now all that Tom had to do was show up, which wasn't looking like a huge possibility.  
  
Tom probably just wanted to rest easy his first night back. And, after all the comments Neelix had heard his fellow crew members making, he wouldn't be too surprised if Tom decided to stay in his quarters for this evening. He slammed the pot he'd been drying onto the cool counter top in frustration.  
  
"What's wrong Neelix, is the pot being mean to you?" Neelix spun around, and stared in a shocked silence at the pilot standing at the other side of the counter. Tom was really here!  
  
"Tom! By the strings of the Takelie! How are you?" Neelix's legs worked on cruise control as he catapulted around the counter and threw himself at a very surprised Tom. Wrapping his arms around the much taller man he attempted to squeeze the life out of him. It was obvious that Tom was surprised by the act, and it took a moment for him to relax and return Neelix's friendly embrace. Neelix was fully aware of how Tom's own crushing arms seemed reluctant to end the hug, but he pretended not to notice.  
  
"It's good to see you Neelix. How've you been holding out the last year?" Delighted, Neelix dragged the man to the nearest table, making him take a seat and then sitting in the one across from him. He eagerly began answering the question.  
  
"Oh I don't know where to begin! So much has happened! Just the other day I was in the kitchen and…" Neelix cut off in mid sentence. "Tom, I made you tomato soup in hopes that you'd stop in tonight. You've got to be starving! I'll go get it!" Neelix jumped out of the chair he had just sat in and bounced to his kitchen. He'd completely forgotten about the soup for a moment, but he was so excited. It was like an adrenaline rush seeing his friend again.  
  
He pulled a bowl out of the cupboard and began to fill it with the thick red liquid. He had to admit he was relieved that Tom was happy to see him again. Over the last year he had occasionally wondered if he himself had been part of the reason Tom had left, thankfully it didn't look that way. He put some replicated crackers on the plate beside the bowl, grabbed a spoon, and headed back out to Tom. He didn't miss the broad smile covering the pilot's face.  
  
"There you are. Made today with real tomatoes." Seeing Tom's raised eyebrow he hurried to reassure him. "I followed the recipe book to the letter, it's safe." Tom chuckled and dug in. Neelix watched as his friend's eyes close in appreciation, savoring the taste. He didn't waste any time in continuing the conversation while Tom ate. He babbled on and on about some of the adventures Voyager had had in the last year. He watched as the pilot smiled at stories about the crew's mischief, and Tuvok's coming out of the closet…humor wise that is. Who knew the man had such a devious mind when it came to practical jokes.  
  
It took Tom forever to finish his soup. He ate it like it was the best thing he'd tasted in the last year. Who knew what those aliens fed him, probably some form of gruel, or even worse, something like those asparagus plants that the humans had in their replicator databanks. Awful stuff.  
  
He talked until Tom finished and pushed the bowl aside. "Now that was good soup."  
  
Neelix grinned, and decided that it was time to switch the conversation. He was waiting to learn what the man had been up to in the last year. What adventures he must have been on!  
  
"Tell me Tom, what have you been up to this last year? Were the ships you flew anything like Voyager?" Tom stopped smiling and looked away from Neelix for a brief second, before his lips were curled upwards once more.  
  
"The ships were very impressive, I'll give that to the Kinkari, but they were nothing like Voyager. And their food! Let's just say that I'm sorry about every time I made fun of your cooking. I missed it almost as much as I missed you." Tom ducked his head in embarrassment at his confession, and Neelix wanted to cry out in joy. He opened his mouth to return his own confession, but the gruff voice he heard was nothing like his own.  
  
"Isn't that a sweet little lie. How long did it take you to think that one up, Paris?"  
  
Oh no. Neelix looked up to see Burkenson standing behind Tom, towering over him. He hadn't even seen him approach their table. He looked back at Tom and was amazed at how fast the man had changed his demeanor. A moment ago he had been smiling and talking easily, now his eyes were calm, almost cold in their unwavering gaze as he turned to look at Burkenson. Any hints of a smile had disappeared.  
  
"Burkenson, Neelix didn't tell me that you'd developed a sense of humor."  
  
"Well then, let me be the first to tell you that I'm going to be watching you. I can't have you running around messing with people's lives again, can I? You don't belong here; you made that clear one year ago." Tom stared at the dark skinned man a moment, obviously contemplating his next course of action. Neelix prepared to call security, but decided a moment later that it wasn't worth it. Tom stood and looked at Burkenson before replying.  
  
"Your right, I did. Sorry Neelix, I have things to do. The meal was great." He turned and brushed passed his offender, heading towards the door. He didn't escape before one more threat was called out, carrying loudly across the mess hall.  
  
"You better watch yourself Paris, we wouldn't want your face ending up like your quarters." The doors slid shut and Neelix turned to glare up at Burkenson. He was exactly the kind of officer that Neelix didn't like. He sometimes found it impossible to get along with him.  
  
"Threatening Mr. Paris would not be a smart move. Remember your place aboard this vessel Ensign Burkenson." The man glared down at him before he to left the mess hall. The other occupants in the room continued eating as though nothing had just happened. Welcome back Tom, he thought before retreating back to his dishes.  
  
((/\))  
  
Tom's fists clenched tightly, but remained at his side unnoticed by anyone he passed. Burkenson had always been the major thorn in his side, ever since the beginning of the trip. Now the man just had more fuel for his fire of hate against him, and the worst part was that now his reasons for hating the pilot were backed by most of the ship.  
  
Tom knew that he had it coming. You don't just pack up and leave your home and family with no excuse, and then suddenly show up again. Then again, he had never intended on showing up again. It was like a dream come true, to finally be home, but how the hell did he get here? So far Harry and Tuvok had been unsuccessful in finding a viable explanation, and they'd been working on it since Tom had arrived. It made him feel nice and welcome to know that his old friends were doing everything possible to find out how to send him back.  
  
Old friends. He needed to talk to Harry.  
  
"Computer. Locate Ensign," he paused a moment, a quick smile gracing his lips. "Locate Lieutenant Kim." The emotionless female voice of the ship's computer floated through the air.  
  
"Lieutenant Kim is in his quarters."  
  
"Is he alone?"  
  
"Affirmative." Great. That was great. Okay Tom, you have to talk to the kid, and now is as good a time as any. But what should he say? "Hey Harry, sorry for up and leaving without giving you any explanation or warning whatsoever. I'll try not to run out on you again. Still best friends though, right?" Right, and he'd chosen to go to prison…wait, scratch that last thought.  
  
How would Harry react? What would he say? Tom hoped his friend could forgive and forget, hey, he'd always been a pushover right? Now that was definitely not called for! Harry had lost his innocence a long time ago, and if anything, he had the most feelings any one individual could have. If he had truly been Tom's friend, Tom had hurt him. And now, after he had come back could he even tell his best friend why he had left? Yes he could. Would he? Nope, not a chance.  
  
If he had told them the reason he was leaving one year ago, he would never have been allowed to leave. The even bigger problem was all the questions his explanation would dig up about his past. He was not ready to drag anyone into that mess. That didn't give him any excuse not to talk with Harry though, so he set off towards the Lieutenant's quarters. He had no trouble remembering the way. This ship and everything about it was burned into his mind as though he had been its designer. The walk through the bright corridors was quick, and he was facing Harry's door in a matter of minutes.  
  
Well, here goes nothing. He requested access.  
  
((/\))  
  
Harry jumped, almost violently, when he heard the door chime. He had been so lost in his thoughts that its intrusion actually startled him. He didn't usually get so edgy about those things.  
  
"Come." He heard his voice call out strong and sure, and he cursed under his breath when the object of his previous thoughts entered his quarters. He hadn't expected Tom to show up tonight. He didn't want Tom to be here right now; in fact he needed the man to not be here. Harry's emotions were on extreme edge and he hadn't been given a chance to sort through everything yet.  
  
Tom was back, and in his quarters right now, and all he wanted to do was send him away. Please Tom, leave me alone tonight. I can't deal with this right now. I don't want to say anything I might regret. But instead of speaking his mind, he stared at the nervous man before him, his eyes gazing hopefully towards him. When neither of them spoke for a full minute, Harry couldn't take the silence any longer. He couldn't believe his voice didn't crack in the next moment.  
  
"Tom." So it was more of an acknowledgment than an actual greeting, it was the best he could muster at this moment.  
  
"Harry." They continued to stand stiffly. Harry didn't give an inch, he just waited. Tom had come to him after all, not the other way around. And after another full minute of silence, Tom finally spoke.  
  
"How've you been?"  
  
"Fine."  
  
"I've heard some pretty wild tales about the last year from Neelix."  
  
He couldn't hold his anger in check any longer. "Don't Tom."  
  
"Harry I…"  
  
"No! What did you expect to gain by coming here tonight, huh? What is it you'd like to hear me say?" He was satisfied to see the pilot's face twist with guilt. "Did you think that after all this time you could waltz back onto Voyager as if you'd never left? Did you think I would just forgive and forget the second you walked through that door?" He gestured angrily towards the large sliding door, praying for someone to barge in and interrupt him before he was completely carried away by his anger. Then again, he needed to get this off his chest.  
  
"Why did you leave Tom?"  
  
Tom looked at him with sorrow filled eyes. That look usually knocked him down to the lowest rung on the ladder, and he would feel the need to comfort his friend; it didn't work tonight.  
  
"It was something I had to do. I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt anyone, that was never my intention." Tom's voice was thick with apology, but there was no regret. After all the emotional pain he'd caused by not even giving them a reason for his departure. After all the nights Harry had lain awake trying to convince himself that it wasn't his fault. After all the late evenings drinking with B'Elanna at that Talaxian bar Neelix had created on the holodeck. And Tom held no regret. Well, Harry didn't have to take that.  
  
"What were you trying to do Tom? Did you intend to be able to leave this life and everyone in it behind? Did you think you would ever come back?" A quiet no was his answer. "Well, you're back now, and you have to deal with the fallout of your actions. Don't come here and expect me to just jump in and help you out. You brought this upon yourself."  
  
"I know I did Harry, and I'm sorry!" Tom's voice almost pleaded for Harry to understand, but Harry couldn't understand. He wasn't willing to understand at this moment, it was just too soon.  
  
"Are you sorry Tom?" He glared at the tall man. "You remember that day, almost seven years ago, when we first stepped onto this ship? Everyone told me not to trust you. They told me that you would just stab me in the back if you were ever given the chance. Do you remember what I said after even you warned me to keep a distance and that you were bad news?" His voice had reverted to a quiet calmness that he didn't feel. In the sudden dead silence Harry could hear his own breathing, slightly rushed from his verbal explosion. He waited for Tom's answer.  
  
"You said you choose your own friends."  
  
"That's right. I choose my own friends Tom, and right now you are not one of them." That was Harry's final blow. "I suggest you leave."  
  
"Harry…" Tom's voice was pleading.  
  
"Now." It was final. He glared into the older man's eyes, shining bright with emotion. Then Tom closed his eyes and turned his head away a moment in defeat, breaking their eye contact. When Tom's attention once again focused on him, Harry almost dropped his glare in surprise from the change in emotion. Or lack there of.  
  
Tom was a completely different person from the man who had stood there a moment ago, pleading for forgiveness. This Tom's eyes had lost their radiant blue, and turned to a light grey, closing off all emotion from Harry. He noticeably stood taller, his shoulders wide and his back straight. The posture was cold, uncaring, and disciplined. When he spoke, his voice was no longer filled with the choked emotion of a few moments before. It was clipped and formal, and very un-Paris like. It didn't even hold his defensive sarcasm.  
  
"I respect your decision. Goodnight Lieutenant." Tom turned and left, Harry looking after him, his glare slowly dissolving away. When the door slid silently shut and the presence of his anger was completely gone, Harry sank into his couch and sighed, his hand reaching up to cradle his forehead. What had he done? 


	4. Even Hero's 4

"No!" The large man stormed towards the young boy, frustration on his features. He was as tall as a mountain as far as the boy was concerned, and stronger than a force field. Right now the large man was angry with him, but young Thomas didn't want to eat his meat. If he ate another bite he would throw up, but they said he always had to eat every last bite. The Man, Alkin, glared down at Thomas, towering over his kneeling form.  
  
"Finish your dinner." His voice boomed around the now silent room, and Tom could see every other student there turn to watch and listen.  
  
"I'm sorry sir, but I don't feel well."  
  
"It wasn't a request boy! You receive a certain amount of food every day in order to keep yourself in prime condition. Nothing is ever left on your plate! You will lick it clean if necessary! Is that clear!" Thomas felt his eyes begin to moisten under the reprimanding. He was going to be sick, and all Alkin could do was yell at him, in front of everyone. He didn't like Alkin.  
  
"Yes sir." He choked, and the mountain stormed away to make sure everyone else was eating their meals. Tom choked down the last few bites, and placed his tray in the recycler. As he turned to leave the messhall, he heard the older kids laughing at him.  
  
"Eat all your food, crybaby."  
  
"The pathetic human can't even handle his dinner. No way will he survive basic training. What a weakling. He's an insult to his race. Pah'Tak!" Thomas increased his speed and almost ran out of the large room, close to tears. They were right, he was a weakling.  
  
"Thomas." He halted immediately and a second later was standing a foot away from the wall, frozen in salute, his eyes staring straight ahead. This is how students were expected to act when an officer or trainer was in presence. They were to make the center of the corridor clear for anyone to pass, and they always stood at attention. Once, when Thomas hadn't hurried he had been locked in a small black room for two days, he could barely move. He'd learned his lesson.  
  
Sul'ta walked towards him with the grace of a trained warrior. He practically floated towards him. He hoped that he wouldn't get in trouble for something.  
  
"At ease."  
  
"sir." Thomas followed the order.  
  
"Come with me."  
  
"Aye sir." After a few moments, the Vulcan broke the silence that had settled over him.  
  
"You are having trouble with the other students." It was a statement, and Thomas didn't know whether or not he was supposed to answer. Fortunately Sul'ta continued for him. "The children of this base are of no importance to you, they are merely training partners. You would be best to ignore them when they aggravate you." The Vulcan fell silent again, walking with long strides. Thomas kept the pace easily; he'd been following them for four years.  
  
He didn't know how to respond. Lieutenant Sul'ta very rarely spoke about anything other than his training. He wasn't the most friendly man, but he was very logical. And he wasn't done yet either. Thomas once again listened to his teacher.  
  
"It is a common thing for all species to pick on the younger, weaker, or more gifted people around them. You Thomas, are their target. You were brought here very young, you are small for even your age and species, you are clumsy in your fighting skills, and you show emotions within every crevice of your features. If you wish for the teasing to stop, you must show no emotion. When they see that they are bothering you, then they shall continue, feeding off of your reactions. Control your emotions, and you will control them. It is a manipulation you would do well to perfect. Now, report to your language class."  
  
"Yes sir." Thomas turned right at the next corridor, hurrying to follow his orders, his footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. He began to immediately make himself like the Vulcan. He didn't want anybody to pick on him anymore.  
  
((/\))  
  
Once Tom made it back to the privacy of his quarters, he lost the calm and neutral look he had erected. Harry had rejected him. Harry hated him! Tom paced his quarters at breakneck speed. He needed to do something, he needed to clean his room! It had to be clean it was just too messy. Good thing Starfleet didn't perform room inspections because he would have failed. The Captain wouldn't approve. No one would approve. Everything was just so messy.  
  
He moved around his room at a speed that most people would be surprised at when considering his height. He grabbed the clothing lying around and stuffed them back into their drawers and into the closet. He was completely focused on his task for about two minutes. He tried to not think about anything but his objective for a spotless and sparkling clean room, but Harry's words kept ringing in his mind. Loud and clear like the ships warning Klaxon's. You're not one of them!  
  
He wasn't surprised about Harry's reaction though. In complete honesty he had expected it, but he had hoped he was wrong as he so often turned out to be. It was how anyone would have reacted. He, Thomas Eugene Paris, had betrayed the trust of his friends and crewmates, now he needed to pay the price. After all, if Harry didn't accept him back, would anyone? Other than Neelix and Tuvok that is. So far they seemed to be his only allies on a ship filled with angry people. The sound of his door sliding open caused him to whip around, and face his uninvited guest. Well, speaking of angry people…  
  
He stood up and watched B'Elanna Torres storm towards him, her eyes afire with emotions. He knew that look in her eyes, he knew what was coming, and he received it full force. She barreled up to him and threw a powerful right hook, connecting hard with his jaw. He staggered back from the force of the blow, before he received another fist in the stomach. He doubled over to protect his bruising gut, and was rewarded with a knee in the mouth. The copper taste of blood coated his tongue from here he'd bitten it, and he fell to his knees on the hard floor, not lifting a finger in defense. He looked up, into her angry eyes, and grimaced at the disgust that he saw.  
  
"I see you've managed to control that temper." He slurred through his swollen lip. He could tell that a few of his teeth were loose.  
  
"Don't even try Paris. Consider this your warning: If you cross my path and so much as look at me in a way I don't like, then you will be right back where you are now." She paused a moment to gather her angry thoughts. He just watched her, his blue eyes beginning to turn into a light shade of gray.  
  
"I thought you had changed. I thought you had honour, but you betrayed my trust in you, and I won't forgive you for that. The worst part about all of this, is that I was always right in my original opinions of you. You are a pig, Paris!" She spat the last word at him, not bothering to hide any of the contempt in her voice, and she turned her back on him, leaving the room in silence. He watched her as she stormed out, and he stared at the door for a long moment after it shut. It took him a moment to realize that she was gone.  
  
He stood with ease and checked the time, his gaze drifting back to the door. Well, it looked like they had just injured one bird with two stones, two big stones, more like boulders actually. He sighed and stared at the floor for a moment; this was not his idea of a family reunion, it was more like a deranged trip through the twilight zone. He'd known that if he ever came back it wouldn't have been under the best of circumstances, but this was worse than he'd thought.  
  
He took a deep breath, and composed himself, firmly locking his look of indifference into place. This didn't bother him, it was just another bump on the road that was his life. He was used to it. He walked silently out of his quarters and into the corridor. He needed to see the doctor, Klingon's, even half Klingon's had more strength then they might be aware of. He needed to get fixed up.  
  
((/\))  
  
The doctor was alerted to a presence in his sick bay when his sensitive hearing picked up the sound of the doors sliding open and shut. He quickly removed his feet from the surface of his desk, and stood from his chair to greet the patient.  
  
Well, he was wondering how long it would take the pilot to get here.  
  
"Well Mr. Paris. I was wondering how long it would take you to arrive here." Tom stopped his inspection of the sickbay and turned to the EMH. The swollen red flesh on his face was all the excuse the Doctor needed to wave a hand towards a biobed.  
  
"You sound like you couldn't wait to see me. I'm touched." The tall mans voice held none of the humour that the Doc had expected.  
  
"Hmmph." Was all the Doc felt like saying as he began to scan Tom's injuries. Well, well, he looked at the scans again to be sure he read them right. "I see you stopped in to see B'Elanna before stopping in. I suppose it's better seeing her before, that way you wouldn't have to come right back. Look this way please." He ordered and Tom turned his head to the right. "Just a few loose teeth and some broken veins. I'll repair the ones on your face now, your stomach can wait a few minutes." It hadn't even been a day and Tom had already been attacked, though the Doc couldn't say he hadn't expected it, he'd just hoped it could have been avoided.  
  
He looked at the pilot's pale features. A little sun would do the man good. His face locked in that annoying, emotionless mask. This was probably the one thing that the Doc detested the most about his former medical assistant: His ability to shut himself away from the world and not let anybody in. Whatever the man was feeling at the moment, it was definitely not the calmness he was emitting. The EMH picked up the blue medical gown and handed it to Tom, and Tom rolled his eyes. Ha! Theres was some of the Paris charm the Doc knew!  
  
"You know the drill."  
  
"Yeah, that doesn't mean I have to like it." The Doc shook his head as his patient sauntered off to change in the back room. When he returned and sat on the biobed, the EMH performed a complete physical, frowning at his scanner several times. He made sure he only asked the basic procedure questions first, and uploaded his information into the medical files. Now that that was out of the way, there were some things he really wanted to know.  
  
"Will I live?" Ever the smart ass.  
  
"It's doubtful. I'd like to keep you over night to run a few more tests." He was rewarded with a short laugh, and smiled slightly himself. He hadn't known how Tom would react to him, after all this time, but it didn't look like any sedatives were going to be needed for his medical assistants co- operation. So far, so good.  
  
"Tom, I have a few questions and then you can make yourself scarce." After a nod of agreement he began his tirade. "It was, I believe, under very strict orders that I allowed you to leave here only when you agreed to avoid as much bodily harm as possible! I should have known that you wouldn't listen to me! You never listen to me! It seems you would rather be a human punching bag!" He paused and focused his I-care-and-don't-want- to-admit-it glare on Tom, satisfied when the man cowered back slightly. "How did you manage to obtain all of these injuries in one year! I know they are all mended back together and you're not dead, but humor me."  
  
"Well Doc, you know how dedicated I am to my work. Sometimes getting beat up comes with the job." Tom shrugged his shoulders, and sat up straighter. He must have been the most enthusiastic officer on whatever ship he had gone to if the EMH judged by the extent of some of the injuries. He knew that that was the best answer he would get on that question. Moving on to number two.  
  
"perhaps you would be kind enough to explain the slight chafing, an inch in width around your neck. Was it a collar of some sort?"  
  
"Actually, yeah. It was the style, what could I say?"  
  
"And your rather interesting body art? I never thought that you would be the sort to get a tattoo, let alone two of them. You may start by explaining the interesting design that travels around your ankle like a bracelet."  
  
"Well Doc, I was always jealous of Chakotay and thought 'what the hell!'" The Doctor glared, and Tom continued his explanation. "Seriously though, this one is like a property sticker. It's the evidence of what ship I belong too."  
  
"And did everyone you worked with have one of these 'property tattoo's?'" The idea behind the tattoo was repulsive, but it wasn't uncommon. Many cultures had markings in order to prove their status in their society, or guilds they might belong to. It was very popular on earth in the past.  
  
"Many of the beings I worked with did."  
  
"What about the one on your arm?"  
  
"Why does it matter why I got them? It's my body." Okay, it looked like Tom was going to get defensive about it. If the pilot didn't want to talk about it that was fine with him.  
  
"Is it possible for you to remove them?" The Doc felt his eyebrow quirk in question, maybe these tattoo's were not wanted as the pilot had led to believe. Interesting.  
  
"The one around your ankle can be removed with no scarring, however; the one on your arm is permanent in every aspect of the word. Though it's design is simple, the coloured substance used has integrated into your genetic structure. I'm afraid it is there forever. Weren't you informed of this when you decided to get it?"  
  
"I didn't ask, they didn't say. Could you remove the one from my ankle please?" Doc nodded and began the short procedure of removal. Neither of them said anything while he worked, and the silence was annoying him. He couldn't stay quiet about his friends return any longer.  
  
"Sickbay has remained fairly dull since you left."  
  
"Really, I'm surprised you would notice the difference." He heard the slight bitterness in Tom's words, and paused a moment before continuing his operation. He needed to speak what was on his mind, and he was pretty sure that Tom needed to hear it.  
  
"It was hard to not notice any difference. I never realized how much I enjoyed having you here annoying me at every possible moment. You were an excellent assistant, but as a patient I could have shot you. Hawkings and Itasin, my new assistants, are nowhere near as entertaining. I think they try to make their shifts as boring as possible." He snapped his tool shut and stood up quickly. He was done. "You are free to leave Mr. Paris."  
  
"Look Doc. I just, you, I…never wanted to be your assistant." The Doc gazed at Tom in amusement as he stumbled for words. "I thought you were an annoying, ignorant program with absolutely no bedside manner. And I was absolutely right, but after I got to know you, you grew on me. You became one of my closest friends and colleagues."  
  
He could see the sincerity in Tom's face. Any doubt that the Doctor had been holding about the man was gone in an instant. This was the same Tom Paris that he had called a friend for years; his time away from the ship hadn't changed that fact. Now the only thing that he really wanted to know was why Tom had left, and exactly what was it he'd been doing that could cause so much physical damage! He wasn't joking when he said some of the damage was severe. There was evidence of broken bones, internal scarring, external scarring. Though it had been expertly mended, there was no hiding it from Voyagers advanced medical scanners, or his own expertise. Tom had been in some serious situations, some which should probably have killed him.  
  
"Doc? I'd like to request that all the medical information from the last year be placed in the 'need to know' medical file only. Consider it strict Doctor patient confidentiality. Seeing as it doesn't have anything to do with my current state of health, it doesn't need to become public knowledge, not even to the Captain." The EMH stared at Tom thoughtfully a moment, he had been expecting a request like this.  
  
"I'll do that Tom, but if I decide that it may affect any situation onboard or off of this ship I will not hesitate to report it to the Captain." Tom frowned slightly and then seemed to accept the terms.  
  
"Thanks Doc." His patient jumped off the biobed, and headed back into the back room to change. The EMH headed back into his office and sat down, leaning into his chair. So, it seemed that Tom had a rough year. Did that mean that there was more to his departure than the simple need to move on with his life explanation that had been oh so popular one year ago? The Doc hadn't really accepted the explanation then, and he was beginning to doubt it even more now. What had his friend been up to? 


	5. Even Hero's 5

The corridors were empty, the scattered crew of the night-shift busy elsewhere. Therefore nobody noticed Tom Paris as he strolled casually down the hall, silent as a ghost. It wasn't a conscious effort to remain silent; it was just something he did. He didn't need to worry about that now though, nobody knew he was up and about, and that was the way he wanted to keep it.  
  
It was 0300 in the morning, way too early to be taking a short stroll on his ship, but he preferred it to his cramped quarters. He couldn't sleep there; he wasn't used to it. He'd woken up on the floor beside his bed, clad only in his boxers. Habits died hard he supposed, but he remembered specifically lying down on the bed the night before. He also vividly remembered his dream. He didn't need images of his friends hating him and then every one of them dying because he had disobeyed orders.  
  
He had a meeting with Voyager's Senior staff at 0700, after that he was reporting to the mess hall to help Neelix. Well, this is a great start to an exciting day. He turned sharply and entered the holodeck through its already open door. The one good thing about being up this early was the fact that the holodecks were usually unoccupied unless being used for testing purposes or other crewmembers who were supposed to be sleeping. Such as himself.  
  
The doors slid shut and he stood staring into the room. He could feel the faint vibration of Voyagers engines as they flew through the uncharted space. He'd also noticed the slight change in direction Voyager had made a few minutes before, not that their current direction meant much to him. It seemed he was only hanging around for the temporary ride, according to the crew. He sucked in a breath and exhaled between his teeth, a slight whistling sound filled the room.  
  
Ahh, the holodeck. The place where he could come and create anything he wanted. The place where he usually retreated every morning during his entire stay on Voyager. He shook his head at the thought, sadly smiling to himself. Ah, the secrets we mere mortals wield. He gave up on the poetic thought and strolled to the control panel, expertly manipulating it until his programs were listed in order on the screen before him. They were all there, with Sandrine's right on top. He grinned.  
  
"Computer, activate program Sandrine's." In an instant the grated surroundings and the yellow stripes of the walls disappeared, the lights dimmed drastically, creating a warm glow and he was standing in the centre of the room. His room, as he'd claimed it when he first created the holodeck program. The wooden tables were polished nicely, the notches in the materials hard texture made all the more prominent. The occasional candle burned in the corner tables, the pool table was illuminated in its place of glory off to his right. And the bar, bottles lining the back wall covering the large mirror, was surrounded by a few of the regulars.  
  
"Thomas!" It took no time for Sandrine to notice his appearance and she flowed over to him, her eyes alight with happiness and relief. She enveloped him in one of her famous hugs, and brushed her lips quickly across his cheek. Her perfume lightly walked across his senses. It had taken forever to make her program smell right. He returned the embrace before she stepped back, there was not one hint of the flirtatious women she could be when others were around.  
  
"Darling. I am so glad you decided not to follow through with your plan. I was so worried that you would leave me. Though I am curious as to why you changed your mind." She gazed at him, waiting for a reasonable explanation. Instead she received a sad and apologetic look, before he answered.  
  
"I did follow through with the plan Sandrine. Now I'm back." She stared at him a moment, and then realization dawned in her intelligent eyes. She gently grasped his hand and led him to a corner table, where they both sat. He waited for her reaction, and it came in the calm way he always remembered.  
  
"How long my Thomas?"  
  
"One year."  
  
"One year." She stared silently at him a moment, and he hated himself for telling her. "No one has activated my program for one year." She stated the fact as though it was okay, but he saw the hurt in her eyes, and he cursed himself for telling her. He hated hurting her like this. Most people would have laughed at him for being so concerned for a program, but she wasn't just a program. He'd needed someone to talk to, someone whom he could tell his secrets. The real Sandrine was the only person he had ever entrusted his secrets with, so when he created her as a holodeck program he had made her sentient. Exactly like the Doctor, this Sandrine had emotions, the ability to think, and she knew exactly what she was. A hologram. That had never stopped her from being there for him. He needed to remove that pained look from her eyes.  
  
"They haven't activated the program in a year, but it wasn't because of you Sandrine. It's because of me. They didn't take to well to my plan either."  
  
"You have not told them have you Thomas?" He looked away for a moment, breaking their intense eye contact.  
  
"No, I haven't."  
  
"Thomas, you must tell them!"  
  
"I know, and I might tell them one day, but right now it is not important."  
  
"It is important Thomas! They need to know." He looked into her deep brown gaze, and hated what he was about to ask, simply because he knew she would hate it.  
  
"Sandrine, I need you to make me a promise…"  
  
"Non. Don't do this. You said to tell them the truth. You are back now Thomas, don't do this to yourself again."  
  
"Sandrine please. Don't tell them, for me." He concentrated on putting every ounce of pleading he had into his eyes; She never refused him when he did that, until now.  
  
"Non. This isn't right. You must tell them why you left. Do not be selfish!"  
  
"I'm not being selfish!" He argued, sitting taller in defence. Was he being selfish? No, he wasn't. He was doing what was best for him, and them. What the crew of Voyager didn't know wouldn't hurt them.  
  
"Thomas…"  
  
"Sandrine please. If I ever needed you to keep a secret, it's this one. I know you remember our original agreement; that you wouldn't tell them until after they were home. They didn't get home, Sandrine. It didn't work." Remorse and the heavy feeling of failure washed through him so strongly that he was unable to conceal it, and Sandrine noticed. Her eyes shone with tears that she was trying not to shed as she reached for his hand, and grasped it firmly.  
  
"I am so sorry Thomas."  
  
"It's okay, just another screw up for my list. Let's make this one screw up they don't know about." She watched him, drinking in his sorrow and wanting to help him. He knew she didn't agree with him about keeping this all a secret. She didn't understand him enough to know how he was feeling, and therefore couldn't really judge him. When she finally nodded her agreement, he let out the breath he had been holding. She was as good as her word.  
  
"Thank you." He rose smoothly from his seat.  
  
"You will come visit non?"  
  
He grinned at her. "Every chance I get."  
  
"So I will see you in a year?" She joked, attempting to lighten the mood. He appreciated her effort.  
  
"You can count on it." He kissed her lightly on the cheek, and shut off her program. Thank god that went as well as he'd hoped. If she hadn't agreed to keep it all a secret, he would have had to delete the knowledge from her programming. Considering that he considered her as a sentient being, it would have been a hard thing to do.  
  
Once again standing in the barren room that was the holodeck, Tom went to the control panel to look at his programs. Nobody had deleted them, or visited any of them in his absence. It hurt to think that they had taken his leaving to such extremes as to not bother even deleting his programs. The fortunate thing was that now he didn't need to spend countless hours recreating them.  
  
"Computer, upload program Paris Beta Grease-monkey and initiate privacy lock." The familiar garage surrounded him instantly, not a tool out of place and not a grease spot missing. And in the centre of it all: his Camaro. It was a beauty of a car, and he gave the red hood an affectionate pat as he passed by it, and walked out the back door without a backwards glance.  
  
The gravel path just outside the door led away from the building, between two houses backyards. After a minute he was walking with long strides towards a grassy slope that was located at the edge of town, a good five minute walk from his garage. When he finally reached the top of the slope, he closed his eyes and let the morning's warm breeze brush softly by him. For a moment he forgot everything, and then it came rushing back and his eyes opened, revealing two emotionless light grey orbs. Time of peace was over for the morning; he needed to get his exercise running.  
  
"Computer, deactivate Paris Beta Grease-Monkey's specific program safety locks. Authorization: Shik has seven toes and a lucky charm." He waited a moment for the holodeck to find his code. It was a detailed, and mainly hidden safety protocol that Tom had activated before he'd left Voyager. He hadn't wanted anyone to get hurt.  
  
"Specific program safety locks deactivated on 'mark.'" He counted to two and a half, then spoke simultaneously with the computer:  
  
"Mark." He'd also made sure that if anyone ever did figure out his program they would have to have the perfect timing to match the voice sequencing. If you were .3 seconds off, the program would delete itself permanently. What could he say? He was a cautious guy, when it came to others.  
  
"Computer, deactivate holodeck safety protocol."  
  
1  
  
2 "Warning, safety protocols…"  
  
"Override." He ordered and looked down the grassy slope, to the thick forest that lay at its base. The forest looked so welcoming and safe, the leaves glittering in the sun's rays. It was an artist's perfect painting, the ideal image, until you entered it.  
  
This was his exercise program. It was one of the places which he had trained every day after beginning Voyager's journey. For the next hour and a half, he would fight against the deadly, cunning, and ever-changing warriors he'd long ago created. Every time he stepped into the trees, it was a new fight. His muscles tensed in anticipation. Over the last day he hadn't had any source of real exercise, and his energy level had skyrocketed. It was amazing how you got used to a routine, and when it was broken your body and mind were affected by its absence. There were always the instances when he hadn't been able to fit his workout into his daily routine. Those were the days he usually ended up getting on everyone's nerves. The first few months aboard Voyager had been the worst. With no program, and little time to work on one, Tom had not been very easy to get along with. The fact that everyone had already pretty much hated him had not helped at all.  
  
Enough reminiscing, he thought. It's time to get down to business. He took a deep breath, preparing himself, and then he took off down the hill, towards the forest. His feet barely touched the ground, and by the time he reached the shelter of the trees, he was ready for the battle.  
  
((/\))  
  
Tuvok sat tall in his seat, silently observing each individual in the room. The atmosphere was tense, none of the Senior staff members were talking amongst themselves in their usual morning banter. And it was understandable that they were acting this way, considering the unusual situation involving Tom Paris. It seemed every member aboard Voyager had a problem with their pilot's return, with the exception of a few. Tuvok would be surprised in fact, to discover that the next five sectors of space along Voyager's path hadn't heard the news of Mr. Paris' return from the way the gossip mill was running.  
  
At that last thought he allowed himself a moment of private satisfaction. The members of Voyager usually assumed that he didn't pay attention to the communication that was Voyagers 'grape-vine.' On the contrary, he heard everything that went on aboard his ship. He had always felt that it was necessary to be aware of every rumour on board for security reasons. He knew things that Neelix didn't, and that was saying something.  
  
He turned his attention back to his surroundings as the door on the far wall opened, and Tom entered the room. Tuvok met his eyes and Tom nodded for a brief moment, before breaking the contact. He then proceeded to the far end of the room, where he stood tall and avoided eye contact with everyone. Any Vulcan would be proud to be able to exhibit the lack of emotion Tom now managed.  
  
Gazing quickly around the room, Tuvok noted that B'Elanna hadn't stopped glaring at the pilot since his entrance. Harry avoided eye contact, Chakotay was impassive and Baytheart was uncomfortable, shifting in his seat every fifteen seconds. The tension was almost overbearing.  
  
He admitted to himself that he had been…hurt, by Tom's departure but his respect for the man had not allowed him to interfere with his decision to leave. It never made sense to him why the pilot would just leave so suddenly, but he had always had some small suspicions. Ones he couldn't yet prove, and he wouldn't interrogate Tom unless he had a solid evidence to force the pilot to answer truthfully, but the suspicions were there all the same.  
  
Captain Janeway walked into the room then, greeting everyone in turn. She didn't greet Tom who stood silently, still not a flicker of emotion evident on his face. She took her seat and the meeting immediately began. He noted with dissatisfaction that Tom was, again, not offered a seat.  
  
They went through every general report which every station had to offer, before they began the important matter of how Tom arrived onboard Voyager. Tuvok had worked with Harry late into the evening, and early this morning and they had come up with no satisfactory explanation.  
  
"Mr. Kim, Tuvok. Is there any explanation as to why Mr. Paris suddenly appeared with us?" The Captain's voice was void of its usual warmth and curiosity. She was not enjoying this situation anymore than the average member of the crew it seemed. Tuvok decided to let Harry answer, seeing as he was already opening his mouth to speak.  
  
"No Captain. Whatever it was that brought Mr. Paris here left no trace to follow. Not even a brief flicker of special distortion, radiation, particle movement. Nothing." The Ensign did not hide the irritation in his voice, and Tuvok spared a quick glance towards Tom, who remained indifferent, staring silently at the wall.  
  
"Perhaps I can help." The voice came out of nowhere, and Tuvok, along with everyone else in the room swiftly turned to stare at the man who had appeared by the closed door. Tuvok's fingers instinctively closed around his phaser, ready to strike as he also prepared to call for security.  
  
"Relax Tuvok." The being looked directly at him, humour in his eyes. "I'm not hereto hurt your precious ship or crew. I come in peace." He grinned and raised his arms in mock surrender. Tuvok stared at him, still poised in case any action was necessary.  
  
"Who are you, and why are you here?", the captain demanded, immediately trying to gain control of the situation. The man looked at her curiously for a moment, and then moved into the room, casually taking one of the empty seats.  
  
"In all due course Captain. First, I would like 'everybody' to be comfortable." The man's deep brown eyes looked pointedly towards Tom. Tom's steel grey eyes were locked on the intruder, watching carefully for any form of attack. "Tom, have a seat. Join us for a while." The being waved towards the empty seat beside Tuvok, and waited.  
  
"No thank you" was the clipped reply.  
  
"I insist" the man pestered, and was firmly turned down.  
  
"So do I."  
  
The unidentified being stared at Voyager's ex-pilot a moment before chuckling, shaking his head and relaxing into his own seat.  
  
((/\))  
  
Chakotay stiffened in his seat. He felt like he had just been dealt a blow to the gut. Glancing at Kathryn he could tell that she had felt it too. What was wrong with him? It was no secret that he was extremely…ticked off with Paris, but it didn't give him any right to be acting in such a childish manner. This meeting had been ongoing for half an hour, and he hadn't even thought of offering the pilot a seat. In fact now that he thought about it, Paris hadn't moved at all since he had picked his place at the far end of the room.  
  
"Enough of that, Aunt Kathy, how are you doing?" Chakotay felt his eyebrows rise in sudden thought. Aunt Kathy? He remembered Kathryn telling him about how Q had called her that when he had been introducing Q-junior, his son. Did that mean that this was…  
  
"Bingo! Well Chuckletay, aren't we feeling smart today." The man, who was posed as a non-ranking Starfleet officer grinned proudly around at the whole group, his teeth shining an unnatural white. "I'm known as 'U,' Q's son. Oh, I know what you're thinking; "Why don't I just call myself Q along with the rest of my race? Well, that is so un-unique. I am an individual after all, and choose to be recognized as one. So I gave myself my own name." He paused to grin again, allowing a moment for his audience to think.  
  
"Anyway, I came here quite often when I was growing up, learning from your human emotions and compassion and all that. Just like my father wanted. Actually, I wanted to thank you for all the insight on life. It's so frustrating trying to deal with the Q sometimes. They just can't grasp the basic concept of compassion, though I do admit they are getting better at it." He leaned back in his seat, grinning in a pleasant manner.  
  
"So, why have I decided to grace you all with my presence? Well, for one I missed you people. It's been just over a year since I last stopped in and I wanted to see how you were all doing. You'd be amazed at how busy it's been, though I suppose it's to be expected considering the size of this universe. Then there are the universes beyond this universe and the ones beyond those but I won't go into that now." A glass filled with a clear liquid suddenly appeared in his hand and he paused a moment to sip.  
  
Tom watched him intensely. It made complete sense now; the Q loved to mess around with others if given a good opportunity, and what better way to mess with Voyager than by putting him back on it? Did U know about Tom's last year? That could be a problem and Tom hoped that the almighty being wouldn't let anything about it slip to Voyager's crew.  
  
Finally Tom dropped his intense gaze and fell back into the uninterested air which he had adopted early in his life. He had never felt like he didn't belong on Voyager more than at this moment. He knew he didn't deserve to be here, he wanted answers from U, but he wouldn't ask them now. He'd wait until no one else was present, seeing how uncomfortable it would make him. Thinking of uncomfortable, if this room was any quieter than it might as well have been a graveyard. At that thought, B'Elanna decided it was time to break the silence as her angry, accusing voice cut through the still air.  
  
"Why did you bring Paris back?" A knife twisted in Tom's gut. He'd heard all of this contempt before in his life, but now it was something he actually cared enough to pay attention to. B'Elanna had been his friend, and for a while she had been more than that. He struggled to keep his face void of his pain at the words.  
  
U took his time to answer, preferring to stare at Tom a long moment before looking at each individual in the room. "I was only answering a request. I'll stop in later." Then suddenly his solid form blinked out of existence.  
  
Usually Tom would have cracked a joke to ease the tension, but at this moment it would probably be more appreciated if he shot himself out a torpedo tube; his attempt to lighten any mood would probably fall flat, so he remained silent until the Captain spoke.  
  
"Dismissed." Tom was out of the room before she had even finished the word, while everyone was still pulling themselves from their chairs. He headed in a direct path to his quarters. He needed to change clothes and prepare for his first shift back on Voyager. Now that he knew how he arrived on Voyager, he wasn't worried about a threat to the ship. With the issue of Voyager's safety out of the way, he needed something else to focus his mind on…otherwise the memories would gain a foothold. Kitchen duty had never sounded so good. 


	6. Even Hero's 6

I'd like to profusely thank everyone who has commented on the story so far, especially those we've said things more than once! Let's me know you're still enjoying it! There is still plenty more after this! Now, on to the story!  
  
((/\))  
  
  
  
Tom exited his quarters wearing a crewman's uniform. The stiff material itched at his skin, and hung uncomfortably in several places. Just like the good old days he thought as he headed towards the mess hall in a rush. To aid in the already bad start of his day he was going to be late for his first shift with Neelix. He increased the length of his silent stride hoping to make up lost time, but he would probably have to run if he wanted a chance to make it there on time.  
  
"If you'd just knocked the guy out of the way you wouldn't have this little punctuality problem right now."  
  
Tom glared over his shoulder at the unexpected comment as U matched his fast pace through the corridor, before he turned sharply on his heel to face the being.  
  
"U." He stopped to formally greet the powerful being, who watched him intently with dark hazel eyes. The pilot wasted no time in starting his interrogation. "Why?" The one word uttered was so simple and straightforward, and meant so much that it might have seemed impossible to answer. U just rolled his eyes in exasperation as Tom tried to intimidate him with a cold look. The glare might have actually had an effect on U too, if he wasn't such a powerful being, sure of his position.  
  
"Come on Paris, you wanted to be home so I brought you home. A thank you for my efforts would be appropriate about now."  
  
"It didn't take you any effort to bring me back, and my own wishes are not usually something that your race tends to take a moment to consider, or grant. Why did you bring me back?" Tom pressed, needing to understand the whole situation. For a moment the pilot was unsure whether he would get an answer as U just looked at him with those dark eyes, seemingly lost in thought. Then U spoke, his voice taking on the arrogance of a storyteller who could recite his tale backwards.  
  
"For the last year I haven't been around to see what was going on. Yesterday I stopped by Voyager and noticed that its 'loudmouthed pilot' was missing. Being curious I decided to look back to the day before you left. Now let me tell you how interesting that was!  
  
((/\))  
  
He'd been walking down the unfamiliar street for the better part of an hour, soaking up the warm rays of the planets' twin suns. The next day Voyager would be leaving and Tom was determined to enjoy the last few hours of his shore leave exploring the many sites of this beautiful city. Actually, beautiful was almost too modest a description. This city, which was the planet's capital, had buildings that were no more than four stories high, and made of solid marble. Pearly coloured trees and multi-coloured flowers were its chief attraction. The main streets of the city were littered with stores selling a large variety of the planet's products. The people were friendly, there always seemed to be some form of background music coming from a hidden speaker or live band. The best thing about the whole atmosphere was that though it was so open and inviting, it wasn't friendly to the point where it became overbearing or suspicious. It was just a beautiful city.  
  
Tom got tired of it fairly quickly and had left the main streets' busy area to take a look at the city's back shops. Lo and behold he finally found a bar huddled between two black buildings, and headed there. He had to take a closer look at the place, if only to be the man who had visited the most bars in the Delta Quadrant.  
  
Walking into the building, he casually and thoroughly took in his surroundings. Tables filled every inch of space possible, surrounded by a variety of different sized chairs, for the different sized customers. He grinned and headed to the bar. One drink wouldn't hurt, and when he received the red liquid in a bowl he turned in his stool and looked around the room once more, sparing a glance at each occupant.  
  
The establishment was fairly full, the main species present being the Kinkari who lived on this planet, but there were several other species he didn't recognize present as well. Twisting back to face the counter Tom froze, his eyes captured in the sight of a being across the room who was staring at him. The pilot stared back into the deep green eyes that were almost completely surrounded by thick black eyebrows. He held the being's gaze for a moment until the unease crept into Tom's bones. There was something in this man's gaze, a challenge that put Tom on edge.  
  
Glancing around the room he noticed there were no other Starfleet officers present. Of all the stupid things to do; he should have stayed in the main attraction area where there was less of a chance for trouble. Not that he was afraid of trouble of course, it just tended to ruin his day whenever it reared its head. He looked over at the green eyed being, finding him still staring. It was definitely time for Tom to be making his exit.  
  
He slid off his stool, nodding a casual thanks to the bartender who was clearing away his now empty bowl of juice, and headed towards the door. He put some effort into looking unthreatening, but it didn't pay off. Three beings stepped in to block his path. Great. A perfect way to end a shore leave: a nice planet, a nice bar, and three large, angry looking ogres. The largest one, standing in the middle of their group, took a intimidating step closer, almost leaning into Tom's personal space.  
  
"Going somewhere?" The high pitched, almost squeaky voice was absurdly matched with its owner's body, but it was threatening none the less, and attracted the attention of every being in the bar.  
  
"Actually, I am." Tom began to push his way past them, hoping for a chance to get out of this situation. Hope was a joke sometimes and he was roughly grabbed by two sets of thick skinned, slightly green arms, pinning him in his place. Their grips instantly began to send a tingle down to Tom's hands, and would no doubt leave bruises.  
  
"Hey guys, I don't want any trouble here." He tried to give them one more chance to get out of this, but as he expected they didn't back down.  
  
"You asked for trouble by coming in here shorty." Tom had to raise his eyebrows at the name.  
  
"You know I've been called a lot of different things in my life, but 'shorty' is definitely new on my list."  
  
Pulling back a beefy fist, ready to attack, the leader of their pack grinned, but he was never given a chance to throw his punch, as a boot connected solidly with his face.  
  
He dropped like a bag of cement, not unconscious but writhing in pain on the floor. An instant later one of his companions landed on top of him, out cold. The leader of the group looked up from his place on the floor in time to see his third man swing a knife at the human. The quick and deadly slice was easily ducked and the human grabbed his attackers wrist, holding it in a death grip. A quick strike with his free arm and the sound of bone snapping was heard through the room, mingling with a scream of pain. Twisting behind his opponent the human brought his elbow down hard on the back of the being's neck and released his grip on the now unconscious form, allowing him to join his comrades in the dirt.  
  
Tom wiped his hands together in mock satisfaction, before glancing around the silent room. The patrons stared at him, some of their mouths hanging open in surprise. He found the man who had been staring at him moments before, and threw him a threatening gaze of his own, before he turned and left the bar.  
  
Walking away from the joint Tom was forced to admit to himself that it had been an impressive show, but it had taken him six seconds to smoothly take out his attackers. He should have been quicker, which meant that he should start devoting a few extra hours to the holodeck training each week. His teachers would have frowned at this performance, as he did.  
  
He examined his arms and hands as he walked, noting the only marks present from the fight were results from the beings' strong grips. That was how he'd planned it, not wanting to explain anything to Voyager, a quick regeneration and the bruises would be gone. Tom rarely used his special training in a fight, because he knew that the more he exposed it to the world, the more likely the chances were that he would be caught by his shipmates. Today was an exception.  
  
The green eyed being that had been following him since he'd left the bar finally caught up, coming to walk beside the pilot, who stoutly ignored him. The guy meant trouble, and Tom had had enough of that for one day. Unfortunately the being had other ideas.  
  
"Those were impressive moves back there." His voice was deep and complimenting, the tone of a salesman. Tom kept walking. "You defeated three of the best fighters in this part of town without a scratch to show for it."  
  
"Whatever you want, I'm not interested." Tom tried to shut him down before he could make any offer, but his disinterest was ignored.  
  
"Your fighting skills are obviously advanced, you used techniques I've never seen before. I could make a lot of money for you."  
  
"I'm not interested. Drop it, or I'll drop you." He glared at his uninvited guest, threatening him one final time. It seemed to catch as the being raised his furry arms in defeat.  
  
"Fine, I'll drop it. But don't blame me when you lose your chance to send your crew home."  
  
Tom froze on the street, narrowing his gaze to focus solely on green eyes. The vibrant blue turned to a threatening steel grey. The salesman's eyes only held victory for finally getting the pilot's attention.  
  
"Are you threatening my crew?" Tom was satisfied when the smugness was replaced by a look of unease, and the being took a step back.  
  
"Of course not! I'm simply saying that I happen to know a way to send them back to your alpha quadrant."  
  
Turn away now Tommy boy or you might do something you regret he fiercely told himself. He should listen to his own warning, but the chance of sending his crew home, no matter how suspicious it might seem, was one he could not pass up. He would do anything, with the exception of murder, to send his friends and family home. Anything. So he asked in his calmest voice,  
  
"How?"  
  
"I know some people with state of the art space technology capable of jumping large distances through space. They just happen to be in town." The green eyes were once again dancing in victory. "Meet me here in two hours and I'll take you to meet them. If they like what they see, they might be willing to cut you a deal."  
  
"Two hours then." Tom agreed, securing his fate.  
  
((/\))  
  
Despite his feelings of unease, Tom found himself following the furry green eyed being, now introduced as Selt, into the back of a privately owned bar and club. When he was offered a seat, he refused it, remaining at the ready for any foul play. Though he wanted to find out what the deal was about, his instincts told him not to trust this alien.  
  
When a door finally opened at the opposite end of the closed establishment, Tom watched silently as four new faces joined his previous crowd of two. He estimated that the three giants flanking the shorter guy were the hired muscle. Tom studied their movements, trying to pick up on tiny details about them, but he was more interested in their boss; the short being with sharp, red eyes.  
  
They approached Tom and Selt, looking them over.  
  
"So you think this 'human' could be worth something to me, eh Selt?" The boss raked his gaze over Tom's body, making him decidedly uncomfortable. "Prove it." It was instantly clear that the red eyed being wanted a fight. Tom wasn't going to do that, not without a reason.  
  
"No."  
  
"Excuse me?" Selt shifted nervously from foot to foot.  
  
"I'm not doing anything until I get some answers to a few questions." There was a moment of silence clouding the room before the red eyed being spoke.  
  
"All right, ask your questions."  
  
"Do you have the technology to send a starship over a distance of…say, 70,000 lightyears?"  
  
The being's lips curled slightly. "A ship like the Voyager hmm? Yes, I have that technology."  
  
"How do I know you're not lying?"  
  
"You don't." The short man broke his gaze with Tom to look questioningly at Selt. No words were spoken but some form of communication seemed to have taken place. When he looked back at Tom, he seemed more interested in this situation.  
  
"Prove to me that you can fight, that I might be able to use you, and we might be able to cut a deal."  
  
Tom took a moment to consider his options. He could walk out now and let Voyager wander slowly home while he wondered if he really could have helped them from this deal, or he might have a shot to send them home now, with this deal. It wasn't a difficult decision to make.  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Right here. Misker," the short being called. "You fight him." The four not directly participating in the fight moved to the side of the room, allowing space for Tom and Misker to give their little show. Tom looked his opponent over, as the tallest of the three bodyguards walked out to meet him in the centre of the floor. He instantly pegged Misker as the clumsiest of the three by his gait, undoubtedly the strongest. Now they stood facing each other.  
  
"I will initiate the Mitikari." Misker's deep voice rolled over Tom, who looked at the being in confusion.  
  
"The what?"  
  
Misker sighed in slight annoyance at Tom's lack of knowledge. "It is the official initiation of the fight to come. Opponents must always acknowledge each other with a show of strength. I will hit you across your features, and you will return the blow. Then we may begin."  
  
"Why don't we just shake hands?"  
  
"It is tradition, or are you afraid you may be injured?" The mocking tone drew a confident smile from the only human present.  
  
"I just want you to remain conscious for the fight."  
  
Without any more time wasted Misker pulled back his fist and let it fly. Tom rolled his head with the impact, avoiding the worst of the blow. Then Tom threw back his own fist and in a great show of effort he managed to barely tap the guy on the chin. A mighty roar of laughter was let loose at Tom's exaggerated effort to inflict harm.  
  
"You couldn't knock a rodent unconscious with that strength. Pathetic."  
  
And so The fight began.  
  
Tom blocked a series of well placed punches and kicks, taking his time to calculate his opponents technique. He was good, Tom would give that to Misker, but he was far from good enough.  
  
A moment later he sidestepped a fist and swiftly kicked the large being's legs out from under him, then paused, giving Misker a moment to stand. He then let a foot fly at his stomach, but his foot was caught and held tightly. Not allowing the being to snap his ankle Tom jumped, using his free leg he kicked Misker in the face. They both fell to the floor; Tom twisted around and was standing in a second, waiting for Misker to catch up. When the man stumbled to his feet and lunged at Tom, a powerful uppercut to the jaw sent him right back to the ground. Tom stood over the still body a moment before turning back to look at the red eyed being.  
  
The short man stared at him, eyes glowing with interest for a moment before the look was replaced with a look of disinterest.  
  
"Let's talk about that deal." Tom joined him at a table, and they began their negotiations.  
  
Three hours later Tom left the bar, his face not leaking any emotion. He didn't take a moment to enjoy the sun, he no longer cared about the beauty of the city, he was too busy thinking about what he had just done.  
  
The deal had been made, he wasn't backing out now. He knew that Captain Janeway wouldn't agree with what he was doing. She would insist on another way of trade, one that would allow for Voyager's pilot to remain on board when they finally returned home. She would have refused his choice to accept this deal, so he wasn't going to tell her, or anyone. He knew how people like Imod operated. This was the only way now…  
  
Oh god he didn't want to do this. It hurt so much. He finally felt like he had a place where he could live a relatively normal life…in the eyes of Starfleet at least. Voyager was his home, the first place he felt comfortable labelling as a home. He was leaving his home, his new family and friends, but he knew he had to now. He'd been given the chance to help them get back to their home.  
  
In exchange of Voyager's return to the Alpha quadrant, Tom was going to stay and work for Imod. He'd gone through all the possible options, and had calculated that this was the only way. Slowly, he walked to the transport site, which would take him to his ship for the last time.  
  
((/\))  
  
"This history lesson is all nice and entertaining," Tom glared at U, " but I have a shift I'm late for. Excuse me." The ex-pilot turned and began heading towards the mess hall once again, but froze in mid-step, almost crashing into the messhall's doors. They slid open and he walked through, muttering a thank you to U under his breath.  
  
When his shift ended he headed back to his quarters, thankfully not meeting anyone who was openly hostile. It had been refreshing to talk to Neelix, who seemed to constantly be bubbling over with enthusiasm. A huge contrast to the attitude on Imod's ship, but it hadn't exactly been filled with pleasant being's who conversed for fun. They hadn't been allowed to talk during their working hours, and after-hours was usually spent trying to avoid everyone. A big happy place. One big happy family…not.  
  
Tom sat on his couch, trying to relax but finding the cushions uncomfortable in their softness. He wasn't used to the luxury and it felt wrong. Working in the kitchen all day hadn't eased his energy, which was practically begging to be used. He didn't want to risk using to holodeck until the morning though.  
  
His thoughts slipped back to the crew, his friends. Tom had managed to be in the kitchen cooking or on some small errand whenever one of his friends came in for their meal. He could still sense the unease the crew had when in his presence. They still weren't that pleased with his return, which he could understand and forgive them for. They needed someone who wasn't a failure or a traitor for a friend. 


	7. Even Hero's 7

The sudden light flickering in the barracks hurt his eyes. Was it 0400 already? The night had passed in what could be described as forever in a moment. That was a strange thought wasn't it? Well, in a way it was true. He'd been thinking so much that evening when he had gone to his bed, that he hadn't even closed his eyes, and now it was morning.  
  
The routine began as usual, all the boys silently getting up and heading to the showers. Then they would change into their white, grey or black uniforms and eat and prepare for another day of rigorous training under their teachers. The different colour uniforms signified their level of skill within the school, black being the best, white being the inexperienced. Thomas didn't, however, don his black uniform. Instead, he pulled on the stylish dress uniform Sul'Ta had given him the night before, because today wasn't an ordinary day for him. Oh no. Today, for the first time in ten years Thomas was going home for the week to visit his family. He hadn't seen them since his father had handed him over to Sental and Starfleet's Elite Program (SEP), and didn't even remember what the Admiral looked like, let alone his mother or sisters.  
  
After he had dressed he headed to Sental's office. He'd been in there once before, and that had been four years ago. Thomas remembered it clearly.  
  
It had been a day of hard training. Really hard. Thomas wasn't sure if he even had the energy to remain standing off to the side of Sental's office, but he forced himself to remain still, his back as straight as he could manage despite his aching ribs. Sental didn't seem very happy; his cheeks were tinged red with barely-concealed anger. He was sitting at his large metallic desk, vid-screen off to his right, and he was glaring at Sul'Ta, Vivix, and Alkeric, who was the station's telepath.  
  
"What do you mean he doesn't have it anymore? You don't just 'lose' the ability." Sental's voice was calm and carried an iciness that Thomas had long ago associated with the man that he hated and feared so much. Alkeric puckered his lips a moment, from nervousness or thought Thomas wasn't sure, and then the Betazoid began his explanation.  
  
What was the ability? Thomas had to think for a moment, it had been explained to him when he had first arrived here. Oh, right. It was a very slight psychic ability that he had. Nothing allowing him to read minds or anything, but it gave him a sixth sense for danger. Mind you, the only times it worked was when he was just about to be attacked by someone. Sental had wanted him to train with this ability to become one of his "Elite" soldiers; it was the only reason Thomas was on the moon's station in the first place.  
  
"He doesn't have it. That's the basic gist of it. When I first met him it was fairly strong, but over the last three years he has slowly been losing it. As of yesterday night I can't sense it anymore. Cadet Thomas no longer has his psychic intuition."  
  
"How?"  
  
"Well, usually as children grow they gain more strength, physically and mentally. In the case of psychics it is the same, but there is the occasional occurrence where as the child develops, he loses his ability. It may have been he was too young to begin his training to use it in this 'project', or it just wasn't meant to be." Alkeric shrugged indifference, and clasped his hands behind his back to hide their shaking. Thomas noticed it from his place along the wall.  
  
He'd also noticed the lack of his sixth sense a long time ago, almost a year ago actually. It just didn't work to focus on predicting when a sparring partner was about to strike by the aura he set off. It became much easier to watch for more physical warning signs, such as a widening in the opponents eyes the moment before attack, the clenching of jaw muscles, etc.… He couldn't figure out the big deal at the complete loss of an ability he hadn't used in a long time.  
  
"So we have wasted three years training this boy in everything from Betazoid meditating techniques to Vulcan martial arts, wasting a great deal of energy and resources on something that isn't what we thought!" Sental was fuming now.  
  
"I told you it was too early to train the child. We should have waited and learned more of his abilities before throwing him right into this project. If we let him go now he might be a security risk." Vivix glared right back at Sental, and his annoyance at her uncharacteristic outburst hastened her to throw a timid "Sir" at the end of her tirade. Sul'Ta however, who had been Thomas's main teacher the last three years, had a different opinion entirely. Thomas listened intently, not a flicker of emotion on his face as they were discussing him, and possibly his future.  
  
"I disagree that Cadet Thomas's training has been a 'waste.' Over the three years we have had him he has shown remarkable skill in many areas. He has had difficulty in his hand to hand combat, but he is still young and has only been trained minimally in that area. His skills as a pilot however, are some of the most impressive I have ever seen. We can always use a strong pilot. He has an uncanny ability to understand electronics, science, and field medicine. He is currently fluent in four languages, which he picked up with ease. He is a hard worker for his age and I believe he shows much promise in our organization."  
  
"You better be dead sure about those opinions Sul'Ta, because I am not going to allow him to remain in this program unless he can be used. You know this is Starfleet's highest and most classified organization. There would be outrage amongst the public and regular Starfleeters if they knew what was going. We'd be finished."  
  
"I understand sir. I believe he is still a valuable resource to us." Sul'Ta bowed his head slightly. Vivix bit her lip to keep from arguing. She didn't have a good excuse to get rid of Thomas at the moment, but she didn't like the boy. His blue eyes were filling with more knowledge every time she looked into them, and she felt he could become a real threat to SEP if they didn't keep a tight reign on the child.  
  
"Then he stays. I want his training increased; he is old enough now. Don't make me regret this." The three beings in the room nodded and turned to file out.  
  
"Cadet. Report to the ring in ten minuets." Sul'Ta ordered.  
  
"Aye Sir." Thomas's voice was clear and devoid of any emotion he was feeling. The Vulcan nodded to himself in approval. This was one child he would make sure was trained properly, no matter the techniques.  
  
Now standing stiffly in front of Sental's desk, Thomas stared at a point over his commanding officer's shoulder. The man with black hair, slightly speckled with silver, eyed him through dark, calculating orbs. Thomas didn't say anything.  
  
"Cadet Thomas. You're well today I trust?" It was an empty inquisition, and Thomas replied in kind.  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
"Good. You will be meeting your father, Admiral Paris, shortly. Do you understand what this means?"  
  
"Yes sir. Master Sul'Ta explained it to me in great detail."  
  
"Good. Perhaps you could explain it to me then," Sental asked Thomas, as though he were an idiot. Thomas kept his face void of emotion as he seethed inside. He knew one hell of a lot more than Sental probably ever would. If he wanted to, he could kill him with little to no effort right on the spot and the arrogant man would never know what hit him. But instead, Thomas answered his question, keeping the man happy. He was his commanding officer after all, and if it was the only thing his father had ever taught him, it was to respect your commanding officer. Though it was hard for Thomas to respect anyone in this place.  
  
"For the last ten years I have been training in engineering, science, communications, piloting and basic combat within this school. This station and all the training we, as cadets here receive, is highly classified, even to my father, an admiral of Starfleet. I will play the cover I have been given as a student from an advanced boarding school, no more, no less."  
  
"Good. And you know what will happen if you don't?"  
  
Thomas suppressed a shiver that wanted to run a path down his spine. "Yes sir."  
  
"Good. Have a pleasant visit with your blood relations."  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
"Dismissed to the shuttle bay." Thomas saluted, and walked briskly from the cold office. It hadn't changed much since his first visit there, and probably never would change. He was only fourteen years old, but Thomas was mature in a way that very few humans ever would be. Sental's comment about Thomas visiting his 'blood relations' wasn't lost on the young man either. This Elite school, and him as an Elite Cadet, was the only family he was supposed to have. It was the only life he was supposed to have, but now he was being ordered to visit with his blood family. His stomach twisted from the nerves he was having problems controlling. The only reason he was being sent to visit was because the Admiral had requested to see how his son was turning out. Not fulfilling the request would raise suspicion. Thomas entered the shuttle bay and awaited the arrival of his shuttle.  
  
((()))  
  
The room was dark, but not quiet as ragged breathing was heard, filling in the silence. Tom twisted on top of his bed covers, his hands clenching at his sides, and then in a quick movement he was sitting straight up, covered in a sheen of sweat. He glanced wildly in the darkness, his eyes quickly adjusting, and he allowed his rigid muscles to relax as he recognized where he was.  
  
Everything was fine. He let out a long breath and rubbed the back of his neck in relief, until the memories of his last week back aboard Voyager came rushing back. Damnit! He threw his legs over the side of his bed and headed to the bathroom, pulling out the sink and splashing some cold water on his face to chase away the last of his nightmare.  
  
It wasn't fair. His thoughts sounded like a whiney brat, but at the moment he wasn't particularly concerned. He tried, he was still trying, to make things right onboard Voyager. He'd gone and apologized to every one of his old friends, but they had just turned away in anger. He growled in frustration and headed to his closet, roughly pulling out a pair of comfortable shorts and a t-shirt. Now dressed he left his quarters.  
  
As usual at this early hour, nobody was using the holodeck, and he stepped through the doorway and into a place he had considered a haven for as long as he'd known it existed.  
  
"Thomas! It is three in the morning, what are you doing here and not in your bed?" The familiar voice drifted to him over the soft background music, and he saw her heading around the bar towards him. He smiled warmly at her. Although she was a hologram, he loved her like the real Sandrine. She gestured him towards a seat and sat across from him.  
  
"You are going to exercise yourself to exhaustion my Thomas." When will his end ? she thought sadly. "How have things been for you?" She watched him intently, searching for whatever truth she could get from him, but as his usual smart mouthed, arrogant, uncaring emotional masks slowly dropped in her presence revealing a tired, lonely, weary man, she knew tonight she would get the truth from him without having to try.  
  
Why did he do this to himself? She knew that his childhood was a large factor in how he treated himself and others. His damn pride and natural stubbornness were two other problems he had going for himself; but all he needed to do was tell his friends the truth.  
  
"I don't know how to handle this Sandrine. I can't go anywhere without having the cold shoulder turned on me. Hell, I've been attacked by Burkenson three times! I've only been back one week, but of course, he's just the classic 'kick 'em while they're down' type, that literally kicks." Tom ran a hand through his short hair and folded his arms across his chest. "He roped Cartel, Higsley, and Sheeta into holding me one time." His voice was laced with regret and sadness. "Sheeta once told me she'd fight any battle by my side; I guess she had a change of heart." Sandrine leaned across the table and pulled one of his arms from their tight coil around him, grasping his hand it what was hopefully a comforting gesture as he continued.  
  
"How could I have screwed my life up so completely?" At this he smiled, full of self-mockery. "You know Chakotay doesn't show it openly, but I see the contempt in his eyes whenever he looks at me. I suppose that's not surprising though, he never liked me much. B'Elanna and Harry hate my guts, I understand why and all but…"  
  
"Why?" He paused in mid sentence at her interruption and focused his shining blue eyes on her, confusion clear in their depths. Sandrine knew better though, she knew he'd understood the question, he was just stalling.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Why do they treat you like that? They used to be your closest friends. Why?"  
  
"Because I deserve it."  
  
"Why?"  
  
He blew air out of his nose in exasperation and instantly switched from his 'feel sorry for me' persona to defensiveness. They way he always did when somebody questioned his friends. He shoved his chair back along the ground, and leaned forward as if the new position would help get his point across.  
  
"How would you feel if you tried really hard to make someone a friend? You become friends with this person, maybe they're the best friend that you've ever had. For six years you remain friends until one day, the person you worked so hard with to maintain that friendship, just leaves. No explanation or anything. In their eyes I was only their friend until I found 'better' ones. I left them because I never really cared. That is why I deserve this."  
  
She watched his face as he defended them, her own anger beginning to rise. His eyes had turned from their beautiful blue to a light grey. She hated that. His eyes always changed colour when he became angry or upset, or protective. She wouldn't stand for this.  
  
"Is that how you see it Thomas? I don't think you're speaking your true feelings."  
  
"That is how I feel. Now, I've got to go and get this workout done before I run out of time…" She grabbed his arm, using her holo strength to make him remain seated.  
  
"No Thomas. I will not let you run from this now. Do you know what I think?" She didn't wait for his reaction as she launched into her opinion. "I think you're trying to make excuses for them. For six years Thomas, six years you opened up to them a great deal, and when you left them, you left for them. Now you are back and they are treating you this way!" He opened his mouth to counter attack but shut up when she glared at him.  
  
"You are their friend Thomas, they should have welcomed you back and accepted your wish to leave in de first place." Her accent became stronger as she surged forward. "If they knew you as well as you say dey do, than don't you think, my Thomas, that they would have thought that you had more of a reason to leave other than de one you gave them? You may be trying to convince yourself that you betrayed them in some way, but you also feel that dey betrayed you." There, she said it, and now she watched as she reigned in her anger and frustration, all the emotions flickering across the pilot's face.  
  
His skin had paled slightly, and his gaze was darting around the room as he thought. He opened and closed his mouth several times as if to talk, but couldn't find the words. She continued softly.  
  
"Not telling them the real reason you left has been because you want to see if they will still be here to support you even after your departure. You are testing their loyalty to you." He looked into her eyes and her heart broke at the years of pain, hurt and sadness she saw there. For a moment he let a tear slide down his cheek, leaving a glistening path before he brushed it away and stood. She didn't force him to stay this time.  
  
"See ya" he mumbled and abruptly shut down her program.  
  
((/\))  
  
Lieutenant Harry Kim walked the halls of Voyager, deeply lost in thought. Tom had been back for two weeks now, and the only real conversation Harry had had with the man had been on his first night back; and that had been pretty much one sided. The young man turned a corridor and continued his aimless stroll.  
  
He regretted what he had said that night. Hell, he regretted pretty much every bad thing he ever said to anybody, but he really regretted what he had said to Tom. He'd been angry, confused, and he'd had no clue how to react. He still didn't know how to react, that's why he was wandering around now, and had been for the last hour. To make matters worse, B'Elanna had told him about how she had attacked Tom.  
  
She had just gone to speak with him, but when she'd seen him she had completely lost her already weak grip on control. She'd "pummeled him to the ground and threatened him like a Cardassian dog" if he remembered her description accurately. That was the closest to tears he'd ever seen her come, even after Tom had left. Her shame and guilt were driving her, not to mention the whole engineering faculty, crazy. She kept telling him how she wanted to apologize to Tom, but she had been so busy lately with Voyager's monthly check-up going on, and she said that every time she was actually seeing Tom and able to talk to him, he found a way to avoid her. This last week she had barely seen him at all.  
  
That's it! Harry had to talk to Tom, find out why he'd really left, because let's face it, he knew there must have been more to it than a 'better job'. He'd just been too self-absorbed to ever really focus on that point. He wanted to talk to his once lost friend, find out how he was, what he'd been doing the last year, if he planned on remaining on Voyager (that thought made Harry shiver)… But most of all he wanted to apologize and find out if Tom was willing to give their friendship another try. Hopefully.  
  
Harry rounded another corner and walked straight into a wall. No wait; walls didn't wear clothes. He looked up and yelped in surprise. Talk about a coincidence! "Tom!" The taller man gazed down on him with eyes that didn't tell Harry anything about what he was thinking. He missed the days when he could at least get a gist of the pilot's feelings by looking into the blue orbs.  
  
"Sorry sir." He reached down and helped pull Harry off the ground with no effort at all. Had he been working out? "I'll watch where I'm going next time."  
  
"No, don't worry about it. It was my fault." Harry stammered, cursing himself for sounding so nervous. He took in his friend's appearance as he stood there in a pair of gray pants and a sweat soaked t-shirt. Yep, he'd been working out. Tom stepped to his right and walked passed him and Harry turned around to face the departing figures back.  
  
"Tom! We need to talk! Please?"  
  
"Sorry lieutenant, I have a shift to prepare for and you're late for a staff meeting." With that the blonde man was gone. Harry cursed and rushed off to the briefing room.  
  
((()))  
  
"Is that all for today?" Captain Janeway glanced at each officer in the room, acknowledging that they didn't have anything else to say before she ended the staff meeting.  
  
"Now Aunt Kathy. I think we've neglected to talk about a topic that's on all your minds." U's knowing voice echoed around the room a second before he appeared behind an empty chair. He twisted it to the side and sat in it, spinning back to lean his elbows on the large table and steeple his fingers. He raised his eyebrows. "It's been two weeks and you all still haven't talked to Tom." He paused a moment as he pondered this fact before continuing. "Well, except for Tuvok there, Neelix, that annoying hologram Doctor, Seven of Nine, and Naomi. Nice kid." Guilty looks passed between Harry and B'Elanna while everyone else kept their faces stoic. Janeway appeared annoyed more than anything else, and U frowned inwardly.  
  
"U." The lovely Captain spoke patiently, as though talking to, well, his father. He didn't appreciate that. "We have a busy schedule and if Mr. Paris decides he wants to talk than he can come to us. As it is, he hasn't been very approachable."  
  
"Well that's certainly unusual isn't it?" U snorted. "I mean, it's not like he spent the last year away from the place he considered 'home,' where his family and friends were, and then came back to be met with such open arms and accepting faces." U spread his arm to include everyone in the room with that comment, except Tuvok. "Did you think he'd just open up ?"  
  
"That's not what happened at all!" B'Elanna ground out angrily at the accusation she felt was placed solely on her. "He's the one who abandoned us. What were we supposed to think?" U glanced at Tuvok in exasperation, being that Tuvok seemed to be the only logical thinking being in the room at that moment. Humans sometimes depended too strongly on their emotions, a trait shared with the klingons. U wanted to help the pilot. And he was the only one, other than the holographical Sandrine on this ship who knew what the pilot was going through, and more importantly had gone through. U wanted to just yell at them about all that had gone on in the last year with the man they were so upset with. He wanted to tell them all about Tom Paris' childhood and life. He wanted to help the man he had come to respect so deeply, but he couldn't because that man had asked him not to. Well, U supposed he would just have to settle for giving 'hints.' He frowned at the room.  
  
"If that's how you feel, then I think he's wasting his time here."  
  
"Send my crew home and I will fight for you."  
  
The ring was surrounded by a forcefield, masses of cheering people stood beyond, excited and greedy eyes gazing in. "I will not kill!" The ring was surrounded by an electric fence, a collar strapped securely around the necks of the three beings within. "You call this a good time? You cheer for blood! You gamble with blood money! You bring shame to yourselves!" The dirt floor mixed with blood, cheering voices blending with the mess. "You will kill him!" Red eyes glowed in anger. "I will NOT!" Grey eyes glared back, two dancing daggers ready to strike. There was no mercy there.  
  
"He will learn, or die."  
  
The Senior staff sat in steadfast silence, some breathing rapidly from the emotions held within the images, no, the memories, that had just assaulted their minds. Baytart brought a hand to his face, rubbing it over his lips and cupping his chin a moment before clasping it within his other hand, upon the table. "You guys felt that, right?"  
  
"It was like a collage of memories. There was so much...fear and anger there, I remember that, but I can't get the images back. I'm losing the memory." Chakotay met Janeway's steel gray eyes to confirm if she had sensed it as well. Slightly she nodded her acknowledgment, and then turned to look at the now empty chair across from Chakotay. U was gone.  
  
"Did anybody understand what they saw?" She glanced around the room, her officers were quiet as they figure out what they had seen and felt, but couldn't remember clearly. Janeway couldn't remember either. Like a scent in the breeze the images were with her in the blink of an eye, and gone in less. She knew intrusion of images where from U, so she wasn't too worried about possible harm to her crew. He hadn't shown any hostility yet, but damn, she wanted to remember what she had just experienced. It was dancing just out of her reach, and she knew it was something very important.  
  
"No Captain," came the mumbled replies from the pre-occupied senior staff, as they sought to regain the images.  
  
"Dismissed." She noticed that Tuvok was the only being who left the room without the frown of concentration covering his features. She leaned back in her chair, three words echoing in her mind, and she couldn't make sense of them. Fight for you. 


	8. Even Hero's 8

Kathryn Janeway lay stretched out on her couch, a novel in hand and mug of coffee within reach. The book was based on a normal everyday man in the twentieth century, who had walked in on a governments assassination attempt. Knowing the truth about the attempted murder, he ended up on a run for his life. His government wasn't being held back by country borders in order to snuff out his life and they also weren't stopping at trying to kill him exclusively, drawing his ex-wife and adopted child into a race against survival. It was a good novel, enticing story line filled with conspiracy, romance, and twists. This was the first time she had been able to sit still long enough in two weeks to actually pick it up. The problem now was that she was unable to get past the paragraph she had started to continue her read from.  
  
Even during her time off she couldn't get Tom Paris out of her head. The man was…infuriating! He just appeared on her ship after leaving with no reason, though Janeway suspected there must have been one. And after two weeks he still hadn't come to talk to her about his status on the ship, not requesting anything like a switch of duties, a request to fly the ship even if only for one night shift. He hadn't come to talk to her about a thing, and that bugged the hell out of her.  
  
She'd finally given in to her annoyance and called him to her office that morning in high hopes to talk. Talk about what? Anything. She wanted to see how he was doing back on the ship. What he'd been up to the last year. If he was planning to stay with Voyager… she'd crossed her fingers at that. Admitting to herself that she had treated him poorly upon his arrival on Voyager had been a difficult thing to do, but she couldn't go back in time and change things so she didn't bother to linger on those hopes. Instead she chose to wallow in guilt and to make amends for her actions. This morning hadn't been that successful.  
  
Tom had come to her office as requested. He still refused to take a seat when offered, preferring to remain standing, his guard always up. What had happened to make him so wary of her and everyone else on board this ship? He hadn't been like that since the first two years on Voyager. God, she let her novel drop onto her uniform clad stomach. It had taken him two years to properly warm up to the people onboard Voyager. Certainly, for two of those years he involved himself in everybody's business, had friends and aquaintances, but it took two years before he seemed to really accept everyone. Now he was back in that state, and she didn't know how to help him. She had pushed him away when he arrived back, and it didn't look like he was going to come back without a fight. It was always a fight with Tom Paris.  
  
If she only knew how true those thoughts were.  
  
"Lieutenant Kim to Captain Janeway."  
  
"Go ahead." Acknowledging the voice over the comm system she stood and smoothed out the imaginary wrinkles in her uniform; it looked like her break was over.  
  
"We've picked up an energy disturbance twenty lightyears aheadahead. It matches the signature of the anomaly we ran across last year, the one that jumped us ahead four years travel."  
  
"I'm on my way." She left her now cold coffee where it was, forgotten, and headed toward the bridge.  
  
((/\))  
  
"Paris! Where the hell are you going? We haven't had our 'talk' yet." Neelix picked up his pace down the corridor, heading towards the source of the angry voice. He knew it was Burkenson, he'd been watching the man for the last week as he followed Tom out of the messhall every time the pilot's shift was over. He had no doubt that it had been happening the week before as well, but Neelix hadn't been looking out for it until he'd noticed a hastily covered bruise on Tom's arm a few days ago.  
  
"I've decided we aren't going to have our little 'talks' anymore Burkenson. Back off." The voice, which Neelix easily identified as that of Tom Paris, was threatening. Neelix was almost running now.  
  
"You don't get to decide that, Crewmen." Burkeson sneered and Neelix finally rounded the corridor to see three men standing at the other end of the corridor. Two of them were obviously tensed to fight. Tom stood glaring at them both. Burkenson decided that that was all the disobedience he would take from Voyager's messhall assistant, and he swung his fist back with surprising speed for his build, and let it fly towards Tom.  
  
Tom threw his right arm out at the same moment Burkenson attacked, and caught the flying fist easily. He snapped it back, causing the ensign to fall to his knees, crying out in pain. Neelix bit back his shock, as he watched the scene unwind.  
  
"What is going on here!" he bellowed, startling himself with the anger in his voice. Tom instantly turned his cold grey eyes towards Neelix in surprise, taking his sight off of Cartel.  
  
((/\))  
  
Tom had had enough of this ritual beating. It had been going on since he came back to Voyager, and he'd allowed it to happen. He figured that if it would help the crew of Voyager get over their anger, their feelings of betrayal, than he would allow it for a while. Besides, no one on this ship, besides Seven and maybe (a small maybe) Tuvok, could pose a threat to him in a fight, so he didn't defend himself. Now however, he'd had enough.  
  
He caught the fist easily, once again reminded of how much stronger he was than his attacker. He snapped the wrist back just to the verge of the breaking point, a very painful angle, and prepared to take Cartel down when a voice, seething with anger and authority cut through Burkenson's cries of pain. The fact that it was Neelix's voice was what caused him to look over at the Talaxian in a moment of surprise. A moment of surprise that he was trained to avoid, but still let get the better of him. Hey, it happened every now and then.  
  
He saw the warning in Neelix's eyes the instant he looked at him, but couldn't defend himself for Cartel's attack. The man's fist came in low, hitting Tom on his left under the ribs. Despite the fact that the punch was weaker than Tom was used to, the pain that spiked throughout his body from the blow sent him instantly to knees. He heard an anguished scream of pain, realizing it was his own as he wrapped his arms around his gut to protect himself. His body was on fire, he fought to breathe, to regain control.  
  
Neelix came up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder in comfort, not understanding what was happening. Somewhere in Tom's mind he realized that Neelix would be calling for medical help, and he would be placed under intense study from the doctor. Not wanting that, Tom tried to tell his friend that he was fine, just needed a moment to walk it off. Neelix ignored him. As the blue light of the transporter enveloped his body, Tom noticed that Cartel and Burkenson were staring at him in confusion, as security came up to take them to holding.  
  
((/\))  
  
The soft sound of the transporter rang throughout sickbay and the EMH walked briskly towards where it was placing his patient. He was always ready for thousands of emergencies, equipped with the medical knowledge of the Alpha quadrant as well as the Delta Quadrant. So when Tom Paris materialized in a kneeling position on his floor, huddled over his gut, the Doctor knew exactly how to react.  
  
"Tom, I know I'm one to receive praise, but being on your knees is slightly extreme." The blue eyes looked up, filled with pain as the Doctor knelt down beside him and began a bioscan.  
  
"You're right. I'll get up now." The pilot spoke through clenched teeth; the tiny beads of sweat forming on his brow began dripping down his cheek. The doctor placed a hand on his shoulder, not wasting anymore time with currently useless banter.  
  
"You will not get up until I know what's wrong. Tell me."  
  
"Not much to say. I got punched in the gut, it knocked the wind out of me."  
  
"And thus sending you cowering to the ground in a quivering heap of flesh. What happened Mr. Paris?" The Doctor was very serious about his question, frowning slightly when his scans weren't picking up any medical problems. He paused at Tom's left gut; the pilot's hand was protectively covering it. Hmm. "You can stand now?"  
  
"Yes." Tom slowly climbed to his feet, obviously fighting back a few tears from the pain. There was no fooling this EMH.  
  
"Good. Make your way to that biobed" he gestured to the one right beside them and then adjusted the focus of his medical scanner. When Tom was sitting on the bed's stiff cushions he turned back to face him. "Remove your shirt please."  
  
"Doc, this isn't necessary. I just got the wind knocked out of me, nothing more."  
  
"Remove it if you can, or I will cut it off. Either way you will end up shirtless within the next few moments." The EMH glared at his always stubborn patient, masking his concern with annoyance. What is it that Tom was trying to hide from him? When the Shirt, after a few moments of silent grimaces and clenched teeth (he would have to sdo some dental work later), was removed the EMH immediately began a much more detailed scan of the pilot's torso.  
  
Tom had developed his muscles well in the last year, not saying they were undeveloped in the first place though; far from actually. Tom had never had any problems with any physical testing that the EMH had performed countless times over the last seven years. He was quite possibly the fittest being on the ship before he left, and right now that wasn't even a question. He could put a gladiator to shame. Doc was just as impressed now as he had been when Tom had first come to see him several weeks before.  
  
Doc focused his scan on Tom's left side where there was slight inflammation due to the fist that had obviously collided with him. Then he saw it, and frowned. He re-checked his readings, twice, before focusing his black eyes in confusion on Tom. One look into that pale face and he knew that Tom was going to pretend he didn't know anything about it, which obviously wasn't the case. It was impossible for someone not to notice this.  
  
The doors leading to the corridor slid silently open, interrupting his thoughts and Seven of Nine, clad in her formfitting grey suit glided in, pausing when she saw them at the biobed. Tom twisted slightly, facing her instead of having her gazing at his side. She focused on the pilot a moment, a slight frown marring her features before she turned to address The Doctor.  
  
"I am sorry for the interruption. I will come back at a later time." She turned and departed through the doors she had walked through mere seconds before. The instant she was gone he re-checked his scans. This was…this! This… was not what should be there!  
  
"Mr. Paris! What the hell is going on here?!" The pilot's eyes took on a questioning, blank look. "No." He countered before the pilot could speak. "I do not want you to pretend to know nothing of this. I know you know about this! This is, it's… sick! What the hell happened to you in this last year? And don't give me any more stories about your 'duties' as one of their officers." Tom looked away, hiding his face from the searching gaze the EMH leveling at him. In fact the EMH was putting forth his menacing you-will-tell-me-the-truth look he had learned since being activated. When Tom turned his head to finally meet his eyes he was tempted to inject the man with a 'series platau Vulcan A laxative' and send him to his quarters, teach him a lesson, because it wasn't Tom that was now looking at him. It was another one of those goddamn masks that the pilot never seemed to take off. Not anymore.  
  
"Can you remove them?" his now stony faced friend asked him. He 'haroomfed' in annoyance.  
  
"It seems that that's all you ever ask me to do! Remove things which have no business being in or on your body in the first place!" The pilot, for once, had no argument or defense to throw at him. That in itself was the admittance that Tom obviously agreed, and didn't want to talk about it. "I'll remove them immediately, but you'll have to lie down as still as possible. The easiest way I can see to get rid of them is by transporting them out of there."  
  
"Just don't take anything else with them." The joke was as humorless as the situation. He glared at the pilot, his technical mind running too fast for his programming, if that was possible. Tom would be the death of him! If it was possible for the EMH's hair, or what he had of it, to turn gray than this man lying in front of him would be the cause of each discolored strand. He focused on the transporting system for a long moment, calculating each mathematical realignment needed for this delicate transport procedure. After another moment of silence he glared at the man who couldn't see him whilst lying down.  
  
"Stay still." No smart remarks were released from his patient. He activated the transporter. No glimmering could be seen on the pilot's body as the modified technology worked to remove the obstacles which had been inside Tom. After a moment though, there was a blue shimmer on the medical tray beside the EMH. He watched the light dissolve from existence and leave in its place on the small silver tray three two inch long, half a millimeter wide, flexible white needles. The EMH glared at them with disgust, as he thought about what they meant. Tom however, was sitting up, all traces of pain removed from his features, he turned his blue eyes to settle on the EMH.  
  
"I suppose this won't remain between us."  
  
"Not unless you can give me a damn good reason." The pilot opened his mouth, Doc cut him off aggressively. "Any excuse to this being a part of your job description will not be noted. Having 'three' of these nerve needles placed inside of any being is considered a form of torture. I don't know what you have been up to this last year Tom Paris, but I will no longer remain silent about my 'theories' on the whole subject. You may return to whatever duties you were up to, I have 'work' to do." Tom's blue eyes stared at him, his face void of emotion. Doc could see the gears working in Tom's head, until finally his patient stood, replaced his shirt and left sickbay without a word.  
  
A good thing he didn't speak either, because the anger the Doctor was feeling at this moment would have been unleashed and he knew now that Tom was not the one he should be directing it at. He walked into his office and slumped tiredly into his cushioned chair. Though his subroutines didn't allow for him to physically become tired, he figured this was exactly how it felt.  
  
He should have put it together before now. He should have known something was seriously wrong with Tom's departure in the first place. Judging by the internal and invisible-to-the-eye external scars his young friend had sustained over this last year, everything the man said he had left for was obviously a lie. Mended bones, burns, internal bleeding, and now those needles. He hadn't ever expected to come across them in his existence, though he had heard about them and how the Cardassians had favored them on the prisoners that were seemingly impossible to break.  
  
Generally the needles are carefully injected into their subject through a syringe. They must be fabricated delicately in a lab, having to be precise size and length in order to work. The custom-made torture device is sensitive to direct forceful pressure, in Tom's case today it was a fist. The pressure rams the finely speared points into nerve tissues, causing the nerves to form a wave of spasms, which affect the entire body. It could make the most seasoned Klingon warrior cry. And on top of the physical trauma those minuscule needles caused, there was also a hefty dose of psychological trauma, which is normal for all methods of torture. The direct use of pain is the bridge between the body and mind. It's very convincing to any victim.  
  
"Doctor to Captain Janeway." He resignedly contacted her.  
  
"Go ahead."  
  
"Could you please contact me through the private medical channel." He heard her pause a moment, obviously knowing about Paris's attack and putting two and two together.  
  
"Give me a moment Doctor." He turned on his viewscreen and waited for her to open the channel. He knew that at this moment he was breaching a trust he had forged with Tom, but he could no longer remain silent. The past year had taken a serious new outlook, and he needed to confer with the Captain in order to begin to understand what was going on. Whether Tom wanted it or not.  
  
((/\))  
  
"Thomas. It's nice to see you."  
  
"Thank you sir." He gazed up at the tall man with graying hair. He wouldn't have recognized him as his father if he hadn't been wearing the insignia stating his rank as an admiral. Thomas doubted there would be many admirals currently on DS9 to meet him, so when this man approached him, he knew it was Admiral Owen Paris, his father.  
  
He looked different from what Tom remembered. His face had more lines, he had less hair and a larger gut. Of course, Thomas could be wrong in his evaluation, seeing as he didn't remember much of his family. Now, standing at attention in front of his father, he felt no connection to the man personally. He had hoped it would be…different than this. Thomas could admit to himself that he had wanted to feel, what was it? Love? Affection? Some sort of emotion that would give him the personal satisfaction that this was his family? Yes, that was exactly what he had hoped, dreamed for, all these years. Open arms, a large smile full of acceptance and love. Instead he waited stiffly, as if he were just another recruit, while his 'father' appraised his appearance, assessing him like everyone else he had ever met. Thomas made sure his disappointment didn't show.  
  
He needed a way to quench the disappointment. He knew that as far as first impressions went this was probably one of the best responses he would get from his father. No wonder the man had sent him to his 'private school.' It was actually more like a private hell. Oh, the admiral was talking again.  
  
"You look good boy. All that training seems to be giving you a strong back. Not even my best students stand at attention so well." Thomas decided that that was probably meant as a compliment, thus he should answer appropriately.  
  
"Thank you sir."  
  
"Good. Our ship leaves in ten minutes. Follow me." The admiral walked past Thomas, and he was forced to turn quickly and catch up with the man's long strides. Unfortunately he hadn't seemed to hit his growth spurt yet, but he was hoping it would come soon. Being one of the shortest soldiers back at the base was not a picnic, as the saying went. It hadn't taken Thomas that long though to set up his position within the pecking order there. When Terc'Al, one of the largest Klingons on the base, had attacked him three years before, he'd knocked the guy flat effortlessly.  
  
After that nobody really bothered him, with exception to the large supply of insults constantly directed his way. It seems they all thought he was there for the sole reason of being the son of an admiral. Personally he'd rather not be there at all, but voicing that opinion would mean that he wasn't truly dedicated to their work, or methods of. Shortly after that truth would be out, an accident would occur, and Thomas would cease to exist. And this man, this admiral, his father, whom he was currently following to a shuttle bay, had absolutely no idea how things really worked at the base, or what the base was really training people for. It was Thomas's secret hope that, had the Admiral known what the base was really training people for, he would've been whisked away by his father in a nanosecond.  
  
  
  
Finally though, Thomas allowed his eyes to wander over the sites of the station. He'd been here four times in his life, on the way to some uninhabited moon for more training. He hadn't been allowed out of the shuttle bay, only given two minutes to transfer to a different, fully powered shuttle. This place was huge! And what was that blue guy eating? Oh gross, the arms on his food were moving.  
  
Thomas looked at everything he could without allowing his father notice. It was one exercise Thomas enjoyed; see everything in as little time as possible without anyone else knowing. Unfortunately the admiral seemed to have a set destination and no room on the schedule for anything else. Thomas had never been given the chance to mingle with civilians or their customs. This was all so new and exciting and different! While some people clearly didn't get along, everyone else was talking, smiling, friendly, going about the business of their lives. It was so different from the base. No one ever smiled there; there was nothing to smile about. Laugh a good laugh at the expense of others, sure. Or maybe people did smile there, and Thomas, being so closed off, never noticed or joined in.  
  
He saw the small silver signs indicating the shuttle bay off to the right. The Admiral took a left and carried on with his steady pace. Tom, not wanting to give the image of upping his superiors, spoke up with as little emotion as possible.  
  
"Sir. I believe the sign to the shuttle bay indicated a right at that last corridor intersection." The admiral stopped and stared down at Thomas, his blue eyes flashing. At least they had one thing in common, though many people had bluer eyes than they. Then the man nodded, seemingly satisfied, and switched direction. Thomas followed him, stretching his legs to increase his steps and speed. It was then that her realized the wrong turn had been a test. The admiral was testing his awareness. He knew at that moment that this trip would be test after test after test. First vacation in how many years to see his family? It didn't look like it was going to be fun.  
  
The ride to Earth was uninterrupted. Tom sat on his grey cushioned chair in the messhall, admiring its squishiness. He could only remember ever being in one other cushioned chair, but he wasn't sure when or where it was. For the time though, he was content to enjoy its comfort as he answered all of his father's questions. They were the expected ones; how do you like your school? Tell me about your courses. I hear your one of the top students at the school. That's good. Are you looking forward to graduation in a few years? I have a place in Starfleet Academy reserved for you the day you can join. You're going to make one hell of an officer…blah blah blah. Thomas fed his father the stories he had been ordered to give. School was great. He was currently learning piloting, engineering, the Vulcan language, and so on. He 'agreed' that he was one of the top students in the school, but he knew that he was considered the best. His skill for his age was 'phenomenal.' Whatever. Thomas wondered if they would let him fly this ship to pass the time, then of course it was the Starship Enterprise and Thomas wasn't 'supposed' to be at that flying level yet.  
  
During this trip, the admiral filled Thomas in about the well-being of the rest of his family. It seems six years ago his mother, who happened to be an excellent pilot, was killed in a freak accident, taking one of his three sisters lives within the deadly crash as well. Tom tried very hard to feel a loss for them, but how could he when he didn't know who they were.  
  
His other sisters , Fiona and Angela, hadn't wanted anything to do with Starfleet after the accident. They went on their separate ways; Fiona had become a doctor on some moon colonization, and Angela was an artist. She played the piano very well and also seemed to have a skill with paint. She would be home the last two days of Thomas's visit. The young man remembered his thoughts from earlier; this wasn't going to be a great trip.  
  
He was right. The admiral had lined up social gathering after social gathering to both host and attend, while Thomas was visiting. He was paraded around like a trophy. Introduced to colleges, friends, even some Bolion ambassadors. He was asked the same questions over and over again, and he answered everyone with the same remarks. He was charming, intelligent and well mannered; Everything his father had wanted. The man couldn't be more happy, beaming at every complement and congratulation for having 'such a fine young officer.' At least the week was almost up.  
  
It was then that he finally met her. The piano in the background was beautiful, the sounds flowing over the large gathering of Starfleet officers. Thomas had excused himself from the group of cadets he was currently conversing with about the recent discovery of a gel which was thought to have power storing components. Thomas believed with the right technology the gel could be used as a solid power source for an entire ship. They didn't agree with him, but they were still learning about all of that.  
  
When he weaved his way through the crowd he laid his eyes upon her, and she seemed so familiar he held his breath a moment, trying to remember. She was beautiful. Her dark blond almost brown hair was pulled back into a tidy bun with curls falling around it. Her slender hands danced over the piano's keys, feeling the music and creating its story. Her eyes were closed as he approached her, her shoulders swung lightly in rhythm to her song. He knew who she was. This was his sister, Angela.  
  
She finished her song and opened her eyes, they were a bold green, unnatural, exotic. When those green eyes met Thomas's blue ones, there was instant understanding. She was his family. He nodded at her, not knowing how to smile. For the next two days she was allowed to watch him while the admiral went on a political function. She introduced him to so much.  
  
They had traveled to the Federations holographic zoo, as the real species were either extinct or in a protected environment. These were amazing creatures. He had never been taught anything about them, seeing that they weren't important within his line of work. She'd given him peanut butter and jam sandwiches. He had never had anything so sweet or…gooey for lack of a better term, to eat. He ate as much as possible. They took long walks through major cities, allowing him to see many stores. The amount of material object these people bought and sold was incredible! Thomas's own personal belongings included a pair of civilian clothing and a dermal regenerator.  
  
The most valuable thing she had done for him though, was teach him to play the piano. He picked up on it very easily. She said she had never seen anyone learn anything that fast. Thomas had almost panicked as he tried to think up an excuse to his learning abilities, but she had smiled and told him how he learned didn't matter. He watched her a lot. Whenever she wasn't looking he would memorize her features, the way her hair would fall about her face when she let it down. The way the right side of her mouth lifted fractionally higher than the left when she smiled. He also noticed the thoughtful looks she would give him when she didn't think he was watching. He saw anger in her eyes, and confusion and worry. For him? He dreamed so.  
  
When he had to report back to Starfleet's shuttle bay he had to remind himself who's command he was under. He resisted the urge to stay behind on Earth where all these people were so alive and free. They had no idea how lucky they were, to have all that he had learned about at their fingertips every day. Now he had to go back to his world. Up everyday by four. Bland food, hard training, and harder people. A world where he slept in a room with tinted glass walls for privacy, and a hard bed. Actually, he hadn't been able to sleep on the soft cushioned bed within his fathers' home, so he had moved to the floor. He missed her before he'd even said goodbye. He hoped he'd see her again, but he wasn't certain. He had to go back to the base. If he didn't he would be considered rogue. He would be killed. He wasn't willing to risk that, yet. It was then, stepping onto the Enterprise to take him back to DS9 that he vowed to himself that he would see her again. He just had to be patient. 


	9. Even Hero's 9

The ring was surrounded by a glass dome thick enough to withstand heavy impacts but thin enough to see through. Thankfully the floor wasn't glass like the last one; it had thrown Tom's balance off and led to an almost fatal mistake.  
  
He stood off against one translucent wall, staring at a place on the glass that gleamed from the overhead and surrounding lights. His blue eyes imperturbable to the crowd of aliens swarming outside the glass walls. These beings, cheering and screaming for the match to begin, were the wealthiest in this area. You had to be wealthy to afford seats at this fight, or so Tom had been told. But that was the demand for all of his fights nowadays, he didn't care about it. He kept staring at the wall, gathering his thoughts and wits.  
  
The pale-skinned being with whom he was about to contest against was standing with his arms, feet pointed straight into the air. It was his show of strength and skill, a crowd-pleaser, an easy skill that was supposed to make Tom nervous. Instead Tom stood there and tuned everything around him out. He hated everything about this, this disgusting form of entertainment. The part he hated most was the fact that he was forced to participate on a weekly basis. Oh he'd refused and had nearly been killed, several times. Now he just fought to survive, no more. Today was going to be different though, today wasn't another 'slap 'em around and win' fight. Today was a battle to the death, the most popular crowd drawer. Someone was going to die in this ring.  
  
Imod had been controlling Tom's life down to the drops of water he drank for the last six months. It had been constant training and punishment. Fight after fight after fight. His arrival on Imod's ship had been rather unwelcome: complete strip search, personal belongings burned in front of his Tom's eyes, five day starvation and ritual beatings to introduce his place within their 'business.' Then the fights started and Tom had not lost one. He wouldn't allow himself to lose because as long as he won Imod promised not to use his technology to pull Voyager or any other Federation ship back to the Delta quadrant. He kept fighting because he was a survivor. His sole comfort was that he had been able to send his family home, for once he had helped them. To bad it hurt so much.  
  
An insipid drumbeat began to echo through the ring and the audience began to quiet down and stare with greedy eyes through the glass. Tom finally pulled his gaze away and watched in secret fascination as the pale skinned man flipped onto his feet and performed an odd little dance involving difficult kicks and flips. A seductive voice filtered over top of the drumbeat introducing him as Nickas, the current world champion on his home planet Tillan. It seemed the Tillan culture trained their warriors solely for battles to the death. No mercy there.  
  
Tom breathed in deeply through his nose, focusing on his opponent and tuning out everything else as his own introduction was made by Imod as 'The ElSar of the Delta Quadrant'. In Imod's language 'sar' describes the shifting of one's demeanor in a matter of moments. 'El' is the rapid change of colour. It was deemed the perfect description for the human that everyone knew so little about. Tom's ability to be coma-like one moment, capable of killing with only the use of his hands the next, was the reason for the title, and the only warning that his mood would turn deadly was the colour shift of his eyes from blue to gray.  
  
None of that mattered to Tom as he concentrated on Nickas's moves. The man was graceful, fluid in motion. Very quick, and it seemed he could jump unnaturally high, landing behind his opponent. At least, that was what Tom would do if he could jump like that. He already knew how he would defeat Nickas.  
  
The pilot didn't perform a dance for the crowd. He stood and watched the whole time, wishing vehemently that he was elsewhere. The fight was about to start. Tom reached a hand into the small back pocket on his brown pants. There he guided his fingers across smooth paper, picturing the drawing that was concealed within its folds. It was the picture Naomi had given him; his only connection to Voyager. He was ready to fight.  
  
The drums abruptly ceased, they executed the respective hand signal of the games formally acknowledging that one of them would soon be dead. How civilized. Tom waited for the first attack, searching for fear in his opponent's eyes. He saw none. Finally Nickas used his jumping ability to full advantage, landing silently behind Tom, delivering a painful punch to his spine. For the next few minuets Tom concentrated on defending himself as Nickas attacked him from every angle possible. Kicks were blocked constantly, punches were less frequent but consistent. After a few minuets Tom had his opponent's technique pretty much figured out, now it was time to finish the fight.  
  
He watched as Nickas squared his shoulders slightly, preparing for another jump to attack Tom's back. Voyager's ex-officer was prepared though, and as Nickas was landing behind him he spun and delivered a gut-crunching kick of his own to the pale being's mid section. He dropped like a sack of rocks but was up and bouncing out of reach a moment later, albeit hunched over some. Tom had him. He let his countless years of training and experience guide him as he blocked and delivered blow after blow, anticipating each attack made, and constantly changing his styles. That was the advantage of knowing so many martial arts, his opponents would never know which one he would use. It made Tom unpredictable and nearly impossible to beat. This time was no different.  
  
Nickas fell to his knees when he could fight no more, barely holding on to consciousness. Tom had three or four bruises to show for the fight, a slight burning in his lower back, and now as he stood over his beaten opponent he knew what he had to do, for the sake of his own survival and sanity he had to finish this; it was a fight to the death.  
  
((/\))  
  
  
  
Captain Janeway, Chakotay and Tuvok sat in silence as they considered everything that the agitated EMH had just told them. Thoughts ran rampant, horrific images constantly emerging in their minds of situations that Tom could have been put through this last year, situations that they would never know. Tom would probably die before he told them. The thing that upset Tuvok was the fact that he had suspected something was wrong with Tom's departure, but he had never expected something like this to be the result.  
  
He remembered a night he had woken up two years ago. He'd had the dream of his father's death, the dream that all Vulcan's have when a family member dies, no matter how far from home they were. His father had come to him in the dream, a peaceful dream full of certainty and love. The older Vulcan had been lying on the families passing berth, living out his last moments. He was still so young, to young to be dying from the sickness that had suddenly manifested. It was in that dream when Tuvok had shared his moments of farewells with his father as the great Vulcan teacher passed away, and he received a knowledge that he was only now beginning to understand.  
  
His father had passed on a deeply routed sense of guilt for something he had performed, something he had been a part of. He passed on knowledge about Starfleet that had come to Tuvok in bits and pieces over the years. It would no doubt take many more years to figure out what it was his father had been a part of, but ever since that dream Tuvok had not looked at Tom Paris in the same light as he had previously. It was illogical, but perhaps it wasn't. His Father Sul'Ta had always said that logic is only in the mind of the individual who believes it; no other creature could ever understand that individual's beliefs, for they were not their own, regardless of whether they are the same. The EMH, who felt they had sat and thought long enough, pulled Tuvok from his contemplation.  
  
"Well! What are you going to do about Mr. Paris?!"  
  
"There is nothing we can do at the moment Doctor." Janeway slowly informed the hologram, thinking about her answer as she spoke. "Tom obviously doesn't feel that whatever it is he's been involved in is public information. And since he wasn't a member of our crew during that time… whatever it is he has gone through, we don't have the authority to order him to tell us."  
  
"So we aren't going to do anything? We're just going to act as though he means nothing to us, as if we don't even care about what he's been through?  
  
  
  
"Doctor." Janeway leveled one of her best 'shut up' glares at him. "By all means he is an important member of our crew and we will not abandon him again…"  
  
"So far I haven't seen anyone make the effort to let him in on that fact." Janeway froze at the interruption, her eyes hardening to an icy glare narrowed at the Doctor. Tuvok realized that the Doctor had overstepped his boundaries with the captain, but he was glad that the situation had finally been brought to full light. Mr. Paris had not been treated in the best of ways upon his return, but that was not solely the captain or the crew's doing. The man had placed himself in the position seemingly unwilling to make an effort to change his current status as the ship's assistant chef. Across the table the doctor continued his pacing, not noticing or not caring for the look the captain was giving him.  
  
"I also don't think that this whole mess is exclusively based around something that happened one year ago. I believe that Mr. Paris has been involved in something for quite some time, even as a member in Starfleet and as a member of this crew." This caused Janeway to raise her eyebrows in question, her anger at the EMH's outburst somewhat dissipated. Chakotay now looked at him with curiosity. Tuvok merely watched and waited to add his own opinions. This was getting interesting.  
  
"What are you getting at?"  
  
The EMH's frustrated eyes once again looked at the occupants of the room. "I don't know exactly." He huffed. "It's just a suspicion really, but ever since Tom became a member of my medical staff and I was given the opportunity to get to know him more personally I began to notice things previously unapparent."  
  
"An example please?" Chakotay pushed the EMH. Tuvok leaned forward slightly, never had he been so interested in something the hologram had to say.  
  
"His appreciation of detail, cleanliness and smooth running. Every instrument he ever uses is placed back where it should be, every medical log is perfect. Now I always thought he came across as a slob, but he seems to have somewhat of an obsession with order. The sickbay was never as well kept as it was when he was working there."  
  
"Given his upbringing that doesn't come as a huge surprise." Chakotay argued, referring to being a fleet brat.  
  
"Well then let's look at some larger examples." The EMH argued right back. "When the Kazon took over Voyager, Mr. Paris and I were the only ones left in space and on ship. While you were all surviving down on that planet, Tom had been stuck on a 'broken' shuttle, which he fixed while under Kazon attack and then he himself destroyed the two Kazon ships with apparently no effort. Then he recruited the Talaxian's help and created a rather difficult plan to retake our Voyager and rescue you. Of course he couldn't have done it without me." The Doctor paused to smugly recall his own efforts in the rescue, before continuing.  
  
"And Tom was the one who made warp ten possible, despite the side affects. Now, I don't know anything about the development of that technology, but I do believe that what he came up with was something that a "pilot", even one with his expertise, would require monumental aid from engineers, designers, and perhaps even other pilots…"  
  
"Lieutenant Torres did aid Mr. Paris on that project." Tuvok pointed out. "But Mr. Paris does tend to know things in areas other than his own expertise.  
  
"Exactly! Look at the Delta flyer, it is a very advanced shuttle which he designed, at least as far as I know. Let's focus on medical facts. When Voyager was pulled into the Delta Quadrant Mr. Paris was aiding me in the sickbay with all the wounded. Now, he wasn't well versed in medicine until he became my pupil, but then he had a basic knowledge that impressed me, though I never told anyone that before…" Janeway and Chakotay smiled. "And every now and then he just knows something that he shouldn't at the level he is at."  
  
"So you're saying that Tom Paris is a doctor in disguise?" The EMH was losing Janeway in his rapid ramblings.  
  
"No, no. But he does have knowledge that should be beyond him."  
  
"A situation which intrigued me was Mr. Paris's ability to remain unharmed while in the Akritirian prison up until the last few hours there. He survived two days alone without any alliances and a brain altering implant. His report never stated how he managed that, and considering Harry's report of his own arrival and attack in the prison, it must not have been easy." Chakotay was beginning to catch on to the Doctors overall meaning.  
  
"Are you men saying that Tom Paris has had some form of training that goes beyond the level of Starfleet?"  
  
"It could be possible Captain." Chakotay answered. "We don't really know much about his past other than what his records say, and his records reveal him being an outstanding Starfleet student, excelling in all his classes."  
  
"He was always classified as a child prodigy."  
  
"Prodigy or not, he came across as a know-it-all paying the least amount of attention possible in his classes. He was also called away on some 'vacation' which was never specifically detailed. That was a few weeks before the Caldik Prime incident." Sets of human, Vulcan, and holographic eyes stared at Chakotay, clearly wondering how he knew all of that information about the man in question. He shrugged his shoulders defensively. "I research my employee's extensively before allowing them to sit at the helm of one of my ships. Paris was no exception."  
  
Tuvok agreed that he would have done the same thing, and he was aware that that was how Chakotay worked, being the recipient of that background check when he had infiltrated the Maquis. Captain Janeway studied her coffee mug a moment before coming to a decision on how she wanted to act on all these speculations.  
  
"In light of recent medical knowledge, and the suspicion that Tom Paris is not exactly who he appears to be we have no solid evidence to act on. Though I don't feel this is a situation that should be ignored, it is not within our immediate power to act; but if anyone happens to come up with anymore information, or perhaps a little solid evidence, it wouldn't hurt to share." She grinned slightly in her 'I'm being devious' habit, though this time it didn't seem to hold its usual humor. Tuvok understood the order to unofficially investigate, so did Chakotay, the Doctor however felt that would take to long.  
  
"Captain, all you need to do is sit him down over a cup of coffee and ask him, then order him to tell you. I have a recipe for a legal mild truth serum I can cook up and perhaps add to that black substance you people are always consuming…"  
  
"Doctor, no. That is a breach of his rights and you know it. You have your orders. Dismissed." Tuvok stood and nodded his approval before turning back to his duties on the bridge. That evening he would find Mr. Paris and offer a game of parises squares, Tom used to always boast about being the best at that particular sport. Perhaps while they were playing Tuvok could get a few questions answered.  
  
((/\))  
  
Tom knew he should have deleted some of the Doctor's memory. Obviously the knowledge of those needles had been spread to the members of the senior staff, and now they were trying to figure out what was going on with their wayward ex-pilot. Tuvok of all people had offered him a game of parises squares. An offer which had dangled seductively. Tom would have loved to play the sport with him, the invitation to do something with someone other than fight with and serve food to was dangerously baiting him. But as much as he wanted to take the Vulcan up on the offer, he knew the sport was being used as a tool to get him to open up about his recent 'ordeals.' If there was anything that this crew and senior staff hated, it was being left in the dark about matters standing right next to them. At the moment, Tom was the 'matter,' and the last thing he wanted was for them to have the light turned on.  
  
He'd turned Tuvok down, thanking him for the offer and spouting off that he had a prior engagement. The Vulcan took the refusal in stride, saying that he would then seek another available partner. For a Vulcan, he lied well, and Tom had always prided himself in knowing when people were lying. He rounded a corner, heading to a holodeck. It was late now so the holographically enhanced room shouldn't be occupied. He didn't make it close enough to the doors to find out.  
  
"Tom!" Harry's persistent voice called, alerting him of who was behind him, though Tom had known someone was approaching from their footfalls. The assistant chef halted and stood stiffly to the side of the corridor, politely waiting for the lieutenant to catch up.  
  
"Tom we need to talk."  
  
Tom looked down into his former friend's deep brown eyes. They held no mirth or companionship right now, remaining carefully guarded, and not revealing any real emotions. His voice however, was the exact opposite. Harry could entertain a blind man for hours when it came to his voice and all the feelings it portrayed. Then again when Tom had still been a somewhat respected member of this crew he had asked some other friends what they thought, and they didn't think Harry was all that expressive. Maybe it just came from knowing the man so well.  
  
"I'm sorry Lieutenant, I'm busy." So maybe that wasn't really true, but Tom had decided he wasn't going to play this ship's game, he was sticking to his own guidelines.  
  
"Bullshit you're busy!" Harry raged, his chocolate eyes now flashing in frustration. "I have been trying to talk to you for the last two weeks, and you have avoided me like the Borg."  
  
No, Tom thought, I wouldn't mind facing off against the Borg right now. "Then talk Lieutenant, while you have my undivided attention."  
  
Harry glared at him, knowing full well how difficult Tom was planning to be. "Let's go somewhere private."  
  
"No, thank you. You have me here and this is as good a place as any. Talk."  
  
He complied.  
  
"Tom, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was such a jerk when you came back. I'm sorry I was just as much a jerk when you left in the first place. I was your friend, and I seemed to have forgotten that along the way. I was angry and frustrated and didn't know what to do about the entire situation. I mean, hell! It's not everyday someone gets up and just leaves you, but I should have at least been supportive of your decision…"  
  
Tom listened stoutly, carefully controlling his features. Harry was apologizing to him. To him! He was right here telling him how much he had really and truly missed him, his hands flying in the air in their usual nervous and expressive way. He was apologizing for not being there for him, Tom Paris. This was almost like a dream come true, his best friend was still willing to try and patch things up.  
  
But as much as Tom had needed to hear these words from the man, and see the truth in his eyes, he still wasn't sure if he could trust him. After all the years of deceit he had gone through, after all the misplaced trust he had finally been willing to give to the people on this ship, he wasn't fully able to accept this as a sincere apology.  
  
Harry's next words shattered his hopes like a wrecking ball in a glass room.  
  
"I know you left for a reason, and you didn't want us to know, and I don't know what it is you've been doing this last year or what you've gone through, but I was wrong to turn you away. Please, let me try and fix that."  
  
And Tom knew what had changed Harry's mind; it wasn't forgiveness or the sudden realization that Tom had always been a friend to him. It was guilt, and that wasn't what Tom had needed from Harry. His anger finally got the better of him.  
  
"You know, when U brought me back, people instantly started passing judgement, as if they were expecting this all along. Never mind the last few years we've spent together. Do you really think I'd up and leave you all just like that?" He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. In a quieter voice, he said "Harry, this crew, this ship – it's all I have. But no one took the time to find out the real reason I left, not even you and B'Elanna. You all assumed that I was simply lapsing back into my previous habits, that that was the real me. As if Lieutenant Tom Paris was all just a clever ruse. No one ever took the time to see that it was the other way around." His voice caught, and he turned away quickly, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. Damn, he must be slipping – he hadn't lost control like this for months.  
  
He felt a hand on his shoulder, but before Harry could say anything, the Captain's voice sounded through the younger man's comm badge. "All senior officers report to my ready room."  
  
That would have been him not so long ago. But not any more. Now he held a token position onboard a ship which he'd sacrificed everything for, everything, and had received nothing in return.  
  
"Tom, I –"  
  
He could feel his tenuous grip on his control slipping. "I believe you're needed, Lieutenant," he interrupted. "If you'll excuse me." Without looking at Kim, he shouldered his way past and headed towards the sanctuary of the holodeck. He silently pressed the code for his 'grease monkey' program, too angry and upset to speak the commands until he was inside and shut away from the rest of the ship, and from Harry.  
  
This was absurd. They obviously knew that Tom hadn't been flying ships this last year, his cover had been blown. While he was slightly relieved he didn't have to pretend anymore, he knew things were only going to become more complicated. Then again, things were always complicated with him – if they weren't, he'd start getting suspicious.  
  
He jogged back to the grassy hill, noticing vaguely that the sun wasn't shining on this particular visit. The dark thunder clouds and rain matched his mood perfectly.  
  
He continued down the hill and into his forest of danger. For now he would fight, release some tension. Then he would decide what to do about Voyager.  
  
  
  
((/\))  
  
The next day found Voyager at the hospitality of the planet Rispi. They had tracked down the sensor readings of the spatial disturbance, but once they arrived there was nothing left to study, most traces of it disappearing into the blackness of space around. Voyager had traveled to Rispi to see if their scientists knew anything about it. They had now been there for two days and half of the crew was currently on the planet's surface, enjoying it's mild climate and salty air. The ocean was very close to their main city, where Voyager had been invited to dock. Politely declining the docking offer, choosing to remain in orbit to search for traces of the lost anomaly, Voyager settled for shore leave. With the wound-up attitudes clashing on board it was a refreshing chance for a break.  
  
*breep bop* The chime interrupted the concerned conversation that had been in progress. Chakotay looked up to see who was interrupting his meeting with the captain, and leaned back in his chair, waiting for Seven of Nine to announce the purpose of her visit. What she had to say caught him by surprise.  
  
"I have come in regards to Tom Paris." Her clipped, no nonsense words had him switch positions in his comfortable seat so that he was now leaning forward in his interest.  
  
"Go ahead." Janeway acknowledged her with professional kindness, though it was easy to see that she had a soft spot for the Borg. The two women had become rather close friends over the few years that Seven had been on board Voyager. Seven was something of Janeway's new 'pet project,' like Tom had been the first three years aboard Voyager. The difference that Chakotay had noticed between the two was that Seven did not seem to realize the extent Janeway went to help her and Tom had, or at least appeared to have.  
  
"I walked in on Mr. Paris and the Doctor three days ago and noticed a marking on his arm. It seemed familiar at the time and took a while for me to process, but I believe that the marking is the Tattoo of the Niktarus." Tom has a tattoo? Chakotay thought distractedly. He had never pegged the cocky man as the type to practice body art. It was usually frowned upon in Starfleet if it was not a part of religion or culture. The tattoo had been a popular initiation in the Marquis when the cause first began and had developed into a trend. Most Marquis had one somewhere on their flesh.  
  
"What is the Niktarus?" Janeway prodded, very interested in this new information.  
  
"The Borg were never successful in assimilating a member of the Niktarus, though they tried. Whenever they came close the being would commit suicide, extremely unwilling to become a member of the collective. Through the Borgs limited knowledge the Niktarus are the most highly trained and skilled beings in the art of combat found in the Delta quadrant. They are feared by everyone who knows of them, but they remain in a closed organization. It is a gambling organization, where the members are set against each other in fights. It is a large gathering held for the wealthiest beings in the Delta quadrant." Janeway and Chakotay stared at her a moment, not quite sure if she had developed a new brand of humour and was testing it out on them, but her stoic features told them otherwise. This was far from a joke.  
  
"Captain. I believe we need to speak with Tom Paris, and straighten this out once and for all." Chakotay urged, his gut twisting with of the possibilities and problems this new situation could present. Then again, to have the level of skill that Seven was speaking of would have to be more of an old problem. An image suddenly pushed forward in Chakotay's mind. The sincere voice, the words, and the man saying those words suddenly became crystal clear. Send my crew home and I will fight for you. He breathed in deeply through his nose, finally understanding what those few words implied. It formed a terrifying explanation of the conspiracy that had been happening in this last year. It was mind numbing to think of what everyone hadn't known, and might never have known had U not stepped in to set the situation straight. He looked over at Janeway.  
  
"Captain, I understand." Her horrified eyes were all he needed to see to know that she understood as well.  
  
((/\))  
  
NOTES: Thanks to Lay McDaniel who greatly improved upon that conversation between Tom and Harry.  
  
-if you have any questions about the Vulcan thing with Tuvok at the beginning, or anything else for that matter, please don't hesitate to email me and I'll get back to you.  
  
Thanks for still reading! 


	10. Even Hero's 10

The missions had finally been handed out to the 'graduated students,' but instead of sharing them with their friends and fellow officers, they remained tight lipped. It was not acceptable to speak about these particular assignments, because they were all classified.  
  
Thomas stood in his dress uniform facing the small gathering of five in front of him. He knew this was it. After all these years of training they were finally setting him to work. According to the computer's database, which he wasn't supposed to have access to, he was the top student this year, and the top student of the last several years. It was quite flattering really, especially when he assessed the high skill of the other soldiers. But while flattery was generally supposed to be a good experience, this was worrying him.  
  
Being the top student meant being given the 'top' assignments, and judging from some of the assignments he had studied, they were something the somewhat mentally disturbed would enjoy, or just the individuals who were outright committed to their beliefs and their jobs. That seemed to be the case for everyone on this ship, and as far as they were concerned it was also the case for Thomas.  
  
His commanding officers appraised him of his mission with calm superior attitudes. Going over the entire mission with great detail, asking him questions to gauge his comprehension. He found himself nodding sharply at their orders, asked questions of his own, and schooled his face to easily hide his anger at them. His anger at their abuse of the beings in this place, of the torment they created, of the nightmares he woke silently from every night after witnessing and being a part of so many cruel deeds which they deemed 'necessary.' This wasn't Thomas's first mission, by far actually. He had been taking part in them on regular bases since the age thirteen, he'd just never been the one to 'pull the trigger' as the saying went. Now, standing tall at the age of sixteen, he was being entrusted with his first solo mission. He was being ordered to assassinate a member of the Romulan senate who was visiting space station nine in one day. He would be leaving in an hour.  
  
"The un-registered shuttle is docked and waiting. You will be completely unaided in this mission. Do not fail." Sental's cold gaze bore into Thomas, searching for some form of intimidation or weariness perhaps? Thomas didn't give him anything, keeping his emotions tightly wrapped in his stomach where only he knew about how terrified he was.  
  
"Yes sir." Thomas barked out, glad that his voice didn't squeak in his nervousness. When Sental nodded sharply he interpreted it as his dismissal and left the briefing room to change into his civilian clothing, before embarking on a mission which would change his life.  
  
Sental's gaze followed the young man as he left the room, and lingered a moment as the door shut. After a strained silence he raked his fingers through his silvering hair and turned to acknowledge Sul'Ta's questioning gaze.  
  
"What is it Sul'Ta?"  
  
"You seem doubtful of Paris. Is there a reason you are concerned with him?"  
  
"Not concerned, just cautious."  
  
"How so?" Sental leaned back in his cushioned seat, steepling his fingers as he decided how to answer.  
  
"Paris is talented. Almost too talented, and though he seems to be a loyal member within our limited ranks, I am not sure whether he can be completely trusted."  
  
"He's shown nothing but loyalty in his twelve years among us." Vivix spoke up. Sental regarded her with a cold glare. She had been working under him at this base for sixteen years. Her ability to control and train some of the toughest soldiers was the most efficient he had ever worked with. She knew the fears of every man and woman in this program and she twisted those fears in order to manipulate. She was a professional, but as Paris had grown up her cold demeanour had turned into an almost protective dominance when regarding him. And Sental was aware that her sudden interest in the boy had nothing to do with a motherly affection. This was something he had been getting annoyed with over the last two years, and it was mostly because he sensed that Paris was aware of this 'affection' and had been using it to his advantage.  
  
"And why do you suppose he shows this loyalty? Is it because he is a proper little soldier and enjoys his work, his position in life which was forced onto him at the age of four? You forget how smart he is Vivix, he could be manipulating us all with his loyalty."  
  
"If you distrust him so much than why do you allow him this mission? This is not a child's game Sental, we know you wouldn't send him out there unless he was far beyond ready for the assignment." His cold gaze turned to livid anger at her arrogance. He was satisfied when she leaned into her chair to escape his withering gaze.  
  
"I am well aware that this is not a child's game, lieutenant," he ground out. "You will live longer if you remember that."  
  
"Yes sir," she acknowledged, her voice not portraying the nervousness in her green eyes. He gazed around at the other three members of the room, finally focusing on Sul'Ta, who had been the one to initiate this topic.  
  
"What I am implying about our young Paris, is simply that we cannot allow him to become a rogue agent. The risks are too great. We eliminate all rogue agents as a rule, but if he ever flees our organization then he will be difficult to handle. From now on we take extra precautions. Is that understood?"  
  
"Yes sir." Everyone nodded in agreement, although Vivix was less enthusiastic than he wished.  
  
((/\))  
  
Five minutes ago Thomas had engaged the cloaking device on his ship and flown it right to the underbelly of DS9. He'd hacked into the station mainframe and disconnected the sensors before beaming himself on board and heading towards the main trading deck. Now he was casually strolling along the wide corridors, occasionally knocking shoulder with beings that were engrossed in their shopping and unaware of where they were going. At the age of sixteen Thomas had been to this station several times. Once had been with his father, once had been with Angela, and three times it had been to practice and hone his socialization skills. To gain experience with the civilians and soldiers unaware of his program. Proudly he had excelled, charming everyone far better than he had hoped. It came easily and naturally, and had almost been enjoyable except for the knowledge that he had been participating for an assignment only. Like now.  
  
He shifted the tunic on his shoulder's, unfamiliar with the way it draped over him and hung almost to his knees. He was conscious of the weight attached to his belt from the small weapon he protected, concealed from view. It was a projectile weapon with a poisonous needle. The extract used to create the deadly toxin was from one of the Romulan's own foliage. The poison itself would take approximately twenty minutes before filtering throughout the senator's entire system, and finally severing the nerves, collapsing the blood vessels and heart. Not a nice way to die but effective and irreversible. The Senator would be consumed with instant paralysis and death followed shortly. Thomas would have ample time to leave this sector and delete all traces of his presence.  
  
He looked towards a restaurant across the way, drawn to it by the soft music coming from a delicately carved wooden flute. It instantly reminded him of Angela, and how she created similar music so easily on the piano, and how she'd taught him.  
  
Continuing down the corridor he was aware of undercover security agents trying to look inconspicuous, their trained eyes casually grazing across everyone visible. Pretending he didn't notice he continued towards his destination. Finally he spotted his target, fifteen meters ahead examining some fabric. Feeling his blood run cold in fear Thomas headed slowly towards him, aware that he showed none of his fear, not allowing his position to be compromised.  
  
This was easy; all he had to do was silently pull the trigger in passing. The needle would embed in the flesh, release its toxin and fall to the ground, probably unnoticed. Yet as Thomas got closer to the Romulan, his doubts came more forcefully. Was this really the way to aid the Federation? Murder? He'd been witness to several murders, some that hadn't been nice for the victim at all, and he had been sickened by it then. Now being ordered to perform the greater deed had his hands trembling ever so slightly.  
  
He was no coward. He couldn't be after the way he had been brought up. Cowards never survived in life. They hid in fear, ran from confrontation, and never looked their victims in the eye. Which was technically what he was about to do.  
  
Walking closer and closer, stopping for moments to view some small shops display, the music drifted towards him again. Thoughts in turmoil he remembered when he first met his family after being drafted into SEP. His sister Angela had been an inspiration, introducing him to the real world. He'd liked the real world, where many people were innocent to the violence he was subjected to everyday. He remembered thinking that whenever he was given the chance, he would leave SEP. So far he had been too afraid to take the chance.  
  
He wasn't a fool. He knew that if he left he would be added to the shrouded bounty hunter roster and until he was dead someone would be searching to kill him. He'd often lay awake in his barracks, listening to Qart's propulsion snoring across the floor, planning what he'd do if he were free. Those had been a child's dream, of owning his own shuttle, answering to himself, not being punished for small mistakes. He knew that he couldn't have that while running for his life. Though running from this life he had now might be an improvement.  
  
He was only a few meters away from the Romulan now. This man had four children and a deceased wife. He lived on Romulus in the main city, owned an aqua pet and enjoyed earth's pancakes for dinner one night a week. Thomas reached into his tunic and lightly gripped his weapon, placing his index finger across the trigger and pushing the nuzzle so it barely peaked out his tunic's opening.  
  
A life of fear, living on the run, perhaps one day exposing SEP; or a soldier's honoured life, performing tasks necessary for the survival of Starfleet, assassinating and living under orders. Thomas's finger lightly grazed the trigger, making sure it was there. There was no doubt about it in his mind that he was good at what he had been trained to do. He might be one of the best. That would be an asset in staying definitely, and even more so in surviving.  
  
He walked by the Romulan, easing his hand off the weapon and out of his tunic, pretending like he had been scratching his torso. The Senator's gaze turned from a delicate orange fabric and met Thomas's grey gaze. Thomas smiled in greeting and the man glared at him like he was dirt on the bottom of his shiny shoe. Averting his eyes, Thomas headed towards the stations shuttle bay. In approximately three minutes a cargo shuttle would be launching for earth. With a little manipulation he could stow away undetected, and arrive at his father's home shortly. Starfleet Academy began in two days, he was sure his father could pull some strings and get him in this semester.  
  
((/\))  
  
  
  
Sental's large fist slammed onto the metal surface, causing the liquid in his mug to spill. He'd known that that boy would be a problem. There had always been something off with him. Paris never communicated with the other soldiers after his friend, Eiret, was killed in a training accident three years before. Even then he hadn't spoken to them much. He kept to himself. Alkeric had stated that he was never certain which thoughts he read from the boy to believe. The kid was smart enough to evade a telepath, and he was still running loose.  
  
Four years ago on his first assignment Paris hadn't reported to his rendezvous point. And he hadn't completed his mission. He disappeared from DS9 without trace, best guesses assumed he hopped aboard one of the many cargo ships and disappeared. Two days later they discovered him making a very loud appearance at the Starfleet academy. By immediately making himself known in the public and Starfleet eye he was, in a manner of speaking, protected from SEP's hit men. They could no longer randomly kill the cocky boy, kidnap him, order him to rejoin their 'school.' They had to wait and plan carefully for the perfect situation to get rid of him. They had to create an accident.  
  
Sental glared at the screen before him, muttering curses that would make a Klingon blush. A railroad spike resembled Paris, and it was stuck right in Sental's side. He had waited two years for an opportunity that was fool proof to the best investigators of Starfleet, and to Paris. After all, one couldn't have the son of an admiral die accidentally without a full-blown investigation.  
  
It had been set up for last week, a flying accident on a routine exercise. Each shuttle had carefully been recalibrated so the sensors would view objects at a further distance than was reality. Nothing was discovered, its programming so complex and finely tuned. Paris had had other ideas though. Sental knew it was expected from a pilot with his skill, but he'd crossed his fingers. Paris had pulled away from the asteroid moments before colliding, his friends hadn't been so lucky, but that was a lesson for him to learn: wherever he was, people were in danger.  
  
Caldik Prime had been a failure; Paris was still alive and in the publics eye more than ever. Admiral Owen Paris had turned his back on his son when the boy stated that he falsified his report, shocking everybody. What Thomas expected to gain from the act of betrayal against Starfleet was frustrating Sental. Paris was obviously not fully sane when it came to decision making, ruining his chances of informing Starfleet about SEP. After all, nobody believed a self-proclaimed liar.  
  
Sental twisted in his seat to gaze out of the space station's window. This station, these perfect soldiers, had been his project for the last twenty- six years. Sixty-two perfect soldiers had been trained and given many successful missions and not one of them had ever been as big a problem as Paris. The day he died was the day Sental would relax, and not until then, because if Paris leaked the existence of SEP, Sental would be finished.  
  
((/\))  
  
She had been watching him carefully since he had glided silently into the bar. His tall frame blended well with most of the patrons in this place and he dressed in earthy browns, drawing no attention to himself. He'd taken a seat in the corner, away from the few tinted windows. She knew instantly that he was hiding from something, or searching for something. She'd been in this business all her life, the bistro having passed down from her late father, and was proud to say that if there was one thing she knew how to do really well, it was read people. The only problem with this young man was that she couldn't get past the cover.  
  
He ordered a synthenol, and the waitress had giggled at him, telling him to come back when he was man enough for the real thing. He smiled and changed his order to milk. Amused, if somewhat flustered, the waitress had swaggered off to take some other orders before returning with his drink. Sandrine continued her study of him well into the night, taking care not to be noticed by his stunning blue eyes, which seemed to be seeing everything without looking.  
  
Finally he moved from his seat in the corner. He took a break to the men's room and returned to a newly emptied pool table, close to her bar. She nodded in greeting when he looked her way and then pretended to focus her attention on the drink she was making. He stood there a moment to seriously contemplate the colourful balls lined in a perfect triangle, before picking up a cue stick and looking at it just as hard. She knew he had been watching the game along with everything else in her pub for the last two hours. What was he doing looking so confused now?  
  
He looked up and she grinned at being caught staring at him. There was no room for embarrassment in her line of work, and when he winked at her she wasn't sure what he meant by it. She turned the bar over to Adrian and took her customary seat at the edge of her bar to watch as he lined up with the white ball and struck it. After bouncing off the tables far end and coming back to hit the balls he looked triumphantly as the black ball neared the side pocket. Oh non, with skill like that or lack of, he was going to lose some money tonight. She might go to save him but Grissem, the head pool shark had already spotted the blonde man and was moving in fast. Sorry mon ami, you are going to lose some money tonight she thought.  
  
"Hey there, Mr. Rod." Grissem sauntered on up, looking from sneaky brown eyes upon his prey.  
  
"I'm sorry, are you talking to me?" The rookie looked around the table for someone answering to the name Rod before looking questioningly at Grissem.  
  
"Don't see anyone else here who looks like they got a pipe shoved up their arse. You stand any straighter boy and you might dislocate some vertebrae." The pale man's cheeks coloured slightly and he brushed a quick hand through his blonde hair. Sandrine didn't miss the quick flash of amusement coming from those blue eyes before they turned back to the guise of innocence. She was starting to think she knew what was going on, and hid a grin.  
  
"What can I do for you sir?"  
  
Sharky, for that was Grissem's nickname, glared in mock disgust. "Don't sir me, I might start to feel old."  
  
The sneak was pulling out the charm early tonight it seemed. The stranger grinned shyly as Sharky continued.  
  
"You ever played pool before?"  
  
"No. Actually this is the first time I've ever seen this game."  
  
"It's a sport my boy. One of the best ever invented."  
  
"Oh, I see."  
  
"No, you don't. But you will. The name's Grissem, but friends call me Sharky."  
  
"Nice to meet you. Tom Paris."  
  
"All right Paris. Here's the deal: I show you how to play a game for nothing, teach you the ropes and all that. Then, if you want we can play again and add a small wager."  
  
"You wouldn't mind?"  
  
"Not at all. Somebody has to be the teacher sometimes eh? Let's get started." Oh, she was almost embarrassed for the blonde. After the initial lesson Sharky had jumped in and started picking away at Paris's pockets. They were now up to one hundred and fifty credits, and his level of skill hadn't gotten much better. Sharky's eyes hadn't stopped glowing since they reached seventy-five credits. She knew the gambler well enough to guess he was preparing to make his final move, and he didn't disappoint her.  
  
"Paris, let's say we give you one more chance to win back those credits you're going to be handing over to me soon. Two hundred is the final call. Take it and play another round or hand over my winnings and we'll go have a drink, my treat." Paris grinned in good humour but looked sceptical. If there was anything Sandrine could credit to his personality, it was that he was a natural at crowd-pleasing.  
  
"I don't know," he began to reach into his back pocket. "I should probably pay up now and call it a night."  
  
"My friend. One more game to call it a good night."  
  
Paris stopped his hand in mid reach, hesitating as he thought the offer over. Then grinning, he brought his arm around and picked up his cue.  
  
"What the hell, I don't have anywhere to be tomorrow morning." The crowd that had gathered cheered and began to once again place their bets. Sandrine was tempted to make one herself, but she had a policy where she would not gamble in her own bar. Let them lose the money and she stay in business.  
  
"Take the break." Sharky offered, waving his callused hand towards the white ball.  
  
"Are you sure? You won that last round after all, you get break."  
  
"Paris, never look a gift horse in the mouth. Take it while you can." Paris raised his eyebrows in one more moment before smoothly stepping up to the table and preparing to take his shot. Pulling back he released a hard shot, breaking each ball like a professional and sending two of the striped balls into the corner right and side left pockets. Sharky just about fell down in shock. Paris looked up at him and shrugged.  
  
"Lucky shot?" Then moving again to the white ball he sent another ball smoothly into a pocket. Sandrine felt her grin growing and growing as each ball went into one pocket or another. The cigar Sharky had been chewing on all evening had been placed into his breast pocket before it could fall from his open mouth and ruin on the floor.  
  
"What is this?" He mumbled in surprise, carefully watching and assessing each stroke Paris expertly took. "What is this?" Shock, Sandrine mused, was beginning to set in. Finally the black ball found its way home and the crowd surrounding the table was momentarily quiet, looking between Paris, who was grinning slightly, and Sharky, who seemed at a loss for words.  
  
Finally his curved shoulders shook from a chuckle as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a disc. Transferring two hundred credits onto it he handed it over to his opponent, shaking his head in amusement.  
  
"I knew my game would eventually be turned against me. I just had no clue you would ever be the one."  
  
"I wasn't that bad." Paris protested as he pocketed the disc.  
  
"A monkey with one arm could play better than you until that last round."  
  
"Yeah well, I'm a quick learner once I'm warmed up."  
  
"Don't even try to tell me you'd never held a cue before. That's a bloody lie."  
  
"Come on, I owe you a drink." As the bar cleared out over the next few hours, Sandrine was well aware that the stranger Paris was still sitting at the bar, drinking his water. Taking a stool beside him she asked Adrian to pour her a scotch on the rocks, before she twisted to face him. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly as he took a casual drink.  
  
"You've been watching me like that since I stepped in here," he stated, and turned his piercing blue eyes on her. She grinned and thanked Adrian for the drink, but remained silent. Paris turned to look at the mirror, still aware of everything going on in the room. They sat like that for fifteen minutes before she had had enough waiting.  
  
"Nobody has ever noticed me when I watch them before."  
  
"I've been watched a lot in my life."  
  
"So I gathered mon ami. I am called Sandrine."  
  
"Tom Paris." She'd been thinking about where she'd heard his name before, but she still couldn't come up with any background for this man. He sat with a straight back as he had all evening, which implied that he had some form of training or naturally good posture.  
  
"Are you planning to take over Sharky's title as this pubs pool shark?"  
  
"No. I don't think I'll be staying too long."  
  
"A man who likes to run?"  
  
This time his smile was colder, his blue eyes flashing in the memory of something. "Most men run from something."  
  
"Oui, but they also take a break every now and again, non?"  
  
He was silent.  
  
"Where are you from Thomas?" His intelligent eyes searched her face a moment as he decided if he wanted to open up to her. There was something different about him though, something different about the way he held himself, or spoke. The way he drank from his glass and carefully watched everything around him without seeming to do so. She knew he was running from something. She'd known that since he'd walked gracefully into her place, and something inside her wanted to know more about him.  
  
"Where am I from," he repeated to himself. "That's a good question. How about we generalize and just say that I'm human and was born on earth." She thought about that carefully for a moment, trying to understand everything it meant, certain that she couldn't.  
  
"Earth is a large place."  
  
"Not so large. Not large enough if you ask me. Everyone seems to know where you are when all you want to do is escape for a while."  
  
"From the law?"  
  
He laughed out loud at that, grinning at her with those beautiful blue eyes, but behind the mirth lay sorrow.  
  
"I wish this was from the law."  
  
"From the government?" He looked away from her, scanning the room again. It was getting very annoying but she did not say anything about this habit. Instead she took a sip from her own drink, thinking.  
  
"Where will you be going?" She asked slowly, not quite sure what she was getting to.  
  
"Anywhere. I've got two hundred credits, good looks, and a newfound skill for pool. What else could I be missing?"  
  
"A place to rest," she said quietly. His back stiffened ever so slightly at that, and she reached out, grasping his hand. He gazed down at it thoughtfully, and she suddenly realized what the offer she just made might be taken as. "Thomas, I understand that you must run, but you must also have somewhere safe to hide. You may stay in my home," he raised his eyebrows, "in the guest quarters, until you find your feet. You may pay rent, or work it off as a waiter in this pub, but that is all the offer I give you."  
  
"That is very kind of you. I hope you don't have a habit of inviting strangers into your home, it's not safe."  
  
"You are not a stranger Thomas, but a man who needs to find some peace. I am willing to be a friend, something I understand you have not had many of." She might be digging a little to deep with these comments, but she had this unexplainable desire to help this man.  
  
"Thank you, but I can't accept your offer. It's too dangerous."  
  
She grinned knowingly. He was afraid for her, but she had seen many bad things in her life and knew she could protect herself. "I will protect you mon Cher, do not fear."  
  
He smiled sadly as he stood and pressed his lips gently to her hand. "I won't fear, not for myself." He turned to go and she felt her chance of knowing him slipping away already. Without thinking she grabbed his arm, feeling his muscles flex beneath the thin shirt.  
  
"No person should walk alone at this time of night. Stay, and leave tomorrow with a good night's sleep." He pulled his arm gently out of her grasp, but she was not insulted by the gesture. Judging by how tense he became from the physical contact he wasn't very comfortable with casual restraint. She shouldn't have grabbed him; she might have scared him off. Looking into his blue eyes he finally showed the emotion of weary gratitude, and turned his head to look at the floor.  
  
"You're too good to be true Sandrine."  
  
"Of course I am. Just remember, the guest room is yours my Thomas, and nowhere else." With that last statement he seemed relieved. When she finished closing and Adrian had gone home for the evening after looking at Sandrine with curious eyes, she led Thomas to the back room where the door to the upstairs apartment lay.  
  
Soon they were sitting on the couch, just talking, Sandrine with a glass of red wine, Thomas with water. He left the next morning, but two nights later he came back and she gave him the same offer of a bed and a job. This time he accepted it.  
  
Over four months he stayed with her, and she slowly realized that she loved him. Not a romantic love, but a family love. Every evening they would talk and he would tell her very little about himself, and she would talk on and on of her family, of her father and of herself. Slowly though, he began to trust her, telling her how he had been a part of a Starfleet project and he had 'resigned' from his position there. His superiors were not happy and he had been running ever since. She had asked what kind of project and he had apologized for bringing it up, but he couldn't tell her.  
  
She had her suspicions though, and every day she knew him she was able to put one more piece in the puzzle. Then early one morning she had woken up for a drink and had noticed his door slightly ajar with the light on. Without thinking she had crept to the door and peered in. Her Thomas was in there all right, and he was working himself to death. She watched him for a minute performing some silent martial arts, but the only thing she recognized was a small bit of Klingon. Then he'd stopped and turned to look at her, sweat dripping into his eyes. How long had he been doing this?  
  
She had stared at him for what seemed like eternity, and he had stared silently back, trying to figure out how to approach this new situation. The reason she knew he was worried was because he didn't show it; she knew him too well. Then, forcing him to sit on her overused couch and getting some water for them both (he never drank liquor, he hated the idea of losing control of his actions by any impairment) she forced him to talk, which took all night. He was the last person she ever wanted to get into an argument with, stubborn mule.  
  
And she learned everything she ever needed to learn. Finally he told her the whole story, his whole life. And she cried for him. She swore an oath to him which she would never break. She swore to remain innocent of all he told her to any public eye, she would not reveal his past if God himself came and asked her. Finally it all had to end. He left silently one night, leaving her with the press of his soft lips to hers, and a black rose to remind her always of their shared time, and the danger it would always bring.  
  
Six months later he was in Auckland Penal colony, and she'd torn her insides apart with the conflict of whether or not to contact him there. Finally, remembering her own safety as she promised, she made no attempt to contact him. Five days before he disappeared on a Starship called Voyager, a black rose was delivered to her home. She cried until there was nothing left to do but go on living, and remembering. 


	11. Even Heros'11

The bubbly beings greeted the crew of Voyager with open arms. Their smiles revealing light blue teeth and, occasionally, purple tongues. Ensign Morally hadn't had a moment to sit since he and his best friend Elgaro had beamed down and been greeted by their two hosts, and then dragged almost literally to all the historical sights in the city. He leaned over and whispered quickly in Elgaro's brown ear.  
  
"If I'm going to be introduced to any more historical sites I'd like to stop and get drunk first." The taller man turned his chocolate eyes on him questioningly before being polite and feigning interest in their host's babblings, who were walking ahead of them, pointing things out with bubbly little hands. Morally leaned towards his friend again.  
  
"If I'm drunk all this history might suddenly be appealing."  
  
"Just shut up, smile and nod. I think it's almost over." Elgaro hissed and then playfully shoved Morally away. Grinning the younger engineer took in his surroundings once more. This place was beautiful, modern and old if that made any sense. He looked down where his feet crunched on the dirt and gravel. These beings, the Tubbles, had a fascination with their history and a strong love for technology. Soots, their host, was speaking about a rock fountain off to their left and how it was built for a governor two hundred years ago in honour of his aid in the flower revolution movement. Literally. These beings had believed that the flora and shrubs of this planet had just as much right to exist in all places as the Tubbles did. The movement paved the way for the planet to have the same vegetation everywhere. Morally thought that was grounds for insanity but hey, whatever gave them their jollies.  
  
Back to the original point of his minds wanderings, the Tubbles had incorporated their heritage into their daily lives as much as possible. While their buildings where built with sophisticated technology, their streets were the natural pathways they had been when first created. When necessary they used mechanical form of transportation but usually relied on their…cows to take them places. At least the large creatures sort of looked like cows. Morally shook his head at the fact that he even knew what a cow was, being as he hadn't seen one since a cultural trip he had taken on earth at the age of four.  
  
"Ensign Morally, Ensign Elgaro." Soots called for their full attention as he and his associate Eiala turned to face them once again, flashing their blue teeth. "It has been a pleasure showing you our historical treasures. We wish you an enjoyable stay here on Rispi." The sincerity was noticeable in their voices and Morally smiled good naturedly.  
  
"It was wonderful haveing you show us around. Your city is beautiful and its history is engaging. I'm sure we'll have a great trip." They bowed, arching backwards before straightening and walking off at their rapid speed. Elgaro looked skeptically at him. "What?"  
  
"Engaging? Let's not shock them with that stunning vocabulary."  
  
"I didn't hear you offer anything."  
  
"That's because some people are too eager to hear their own voice and cut others off." Morally shrugged non-apologetically at his best friends ribbing. Six years ago he would have 'engaged' in a fistfight if Elgaro had even spoken to him in a way that could have been condescending. It's amazing what a couple of good intergalactic battles and struggle for survival could do for ones social life.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, let's go find that bar." He growled back in mock anger. They headed down the street in companionable silence, until a chuckle erupted from Elgaro.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Its nothing, really."  
  
"If it was nothing you wouldn't be grinning. It had better not be at me." The warm laughter came again.  
  
"Honest, its stupid. Just one of those things I find amusing." Morally concentrated on walking again, the continuous crunch of gravel following them with every step. Elgaro chuckled again.  
  
"WHAT?"  
  
"Its nothing."  
  
"Elgaro." Morally warned, looking around for the bar they had seen earlier.  
  
"It's the gravel." He stated, chuckling again. Morally stopped and turned his well patented gaze on his friend.  
  
"The gravel?"  
  
"It's crunching with every step we take. I'm not used to it."  
  
"And it's making you laugh out loud? Sometimes I wonder if everything in your head was assembled correctly at birth. You come up with the weirdest…"  
  
"There's Paris." Elgaro's lighthearted gaze suddenly became serious as he looked over Morally's shoulder. Morally twisted around to see for himself, and true enough Paris was walking out of the bar they had been heading to, his features as calm as ever. Just like they had been every time Morally had seen him since his return to Voyager. He hadn't admitted it to anyone except Elgaro but he hated that look. It was completely unlike the Tom Paris who had taught him how to fly on the holodeck two years before.  
  
"Should we go say hi or something?" He asked his friend. They'd been meaning to speak with him for a while now but with their duties and own personal lives they hadn't gotten around to it yet.  
  
"What is this?" Elgaro asked instead of answering Morally. They moved quickly to the side of the street where they were slightly less noticeable and watched as Paris slowly approached them. A man had left the bar and was following the pilot, calling out some strange name. Morally was sure he'd seen this mans species before.  
  
"Elsar! Elsar cease your retreat. I wish to talk!" Tom stopped so abruptly Morally was sure the force of gravity should have pulled him face first into the dirt. The shorter being approached the fair haired man but stopped his advance three meters away, keeping a distance.  
  
"What do you thinks happening?" Morally asked quietly.  
  
"Listen and we might find out." Elgaro growled, his voice sounding annoyed. Morally thought nothing of it, he knew his friend wasn't annoyed, only curious. He studied Tom's body language carefully. The man was standing to his full height, his shoulders squared menacingly and one fist was curled. He was definitely angry, and Morally noticed that the being who had followed him was keeping the distance just for that reason.  
  
"Elsar, you must speak with Imod. He has a proposition." What was going on here? A proposition for what? And why was he calling Tom "Elsar?"  
  
"I have nothing to say to Imod." Tom's voice, calm and deliberate, was in high contrast with his body language.  
  
"I believe you will be very interested to hear what he has to say. He will send them home for real this time. He knows he cannot double cross you twice. He is a wise man."  
  
"If he was wise he would have sent them home the first time. Leave me alone. I want nothing to do with any of your kind."  
  
"Elsar, if you would just listen to him…" The being halted in mid sentence as Tom grabbed the base of his t-shirts sleeve and fiercely hiked it up, brandishing his arm to the man. Morally and Elgaro were looking at Tom's back so they couldn't see what he was showing him, but it was hard not to notice the persistent man beginning to tremble. Tom's voice was now obviously very controlled, his anger slowly seeping in. Morally had never heard such vehemence from the pilot before.  
  
"Look carefully Kinkari. This is the mark of the Niktarus. I am one of the best, and it sure as hell isn't daisy picking that I do. Now you tell Imod that if he comes near me, I will break his neck. If he comes near my crew, I will break. his. neck. If he threatens them in any way, I will be after him like a gluco tic on sucrose. And if he sends you or any of his men to follow me again, they will not be reporting back to him, ever. I am through with him." Tom stepped closer to the Kinkari and Morally, stunned by the force of the pilot's threats noticed several other men of the Kinkari species emerge from the tavern, take one look at Paris brandishing whatever was on his arm, and bid a hasty retreat back into the building. "He can shove his wormhole technology up his black hole, and I do mean that literally. Do you understand?" He yanked his sleeve back down and the Kinkari was now shaking uncontrollably.  
  
"Yes Elsar." The being raised a hand to cover half his face and performed a half bow. "I beg my well being and will not approach you again." The being turned and practically ran away. Tom turned and continued his walk towards Morally and Elgaro, his face once again calm, as though that entire confrontation had never happened. Before Morally could question his own actions he was stepping out to greet Tom.  
  
"Tom? Are you okay?" He asked and the pilot stopped dead in his tracks for the second time in as many minutes. The calm gave way to confusion for a brief moment.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"I asked if you were alright. You looked kind of shaken up for a moment there."  
  
"What do you care?" A sarcastic half grin erupted on the younger mans face and Morally was momentarily puzzled by the hostility.  
  
"Why wouldn't I? Look, despite what you may think we never stopped thinking of you as a friend." Morally said speaking for himself and Elgaro who finally joined their group.  
  
"That would have been nice to know a few weeks ago. Now if you'll excuse me, I have lives to disrupt." Tom began to walk past them and Morally grabbed the pilot's arm without thinking, halting his retreat.  
  
"I'm sorry Tom. I didn't mean to hurt you by not speaking with you. I assumed you would realize not all of us hold your little vacation against you." Tom's eyes, turning from their previous cold gray to a lighter blue, were stunned. It was as if this was the last thing he had ever expected to hear.  
  
"Tom." Elgaro found his own voice. "We all make decisions on a daily bases which affect the lives of others. The crew of Voyager knows this, it's just taking them a while to remember. Give them time." Tom looked between them for a moment, the shock in his eyes at their admissions burned into their memories; it wasn't something they liked to see. Then, as if it had always been, Tom was showing only a neutral and unreadable face.  
  
"I wish I could Elgaro. Thank you guys, but I need to be going now. Bye." He easily pulled out of Elgaro's grasp and headed off towards Voyager's beaming site.  
  
"This is one of the most interesting confrontations I have ever been witness to." Morally muttered as they watched their friends retreating back.  
  
"What is a Niktarus?" Elgaro asked, as if Morally could somehow pull the answer from the air.  
  
"I'll tell you if you tell me what Elsar means."  
  
"This isn't right."  
  
"When did you get that idea? When he was threatening people we don't know for the crews safety?"  
  
"We need to report this to the captain."  
  
"I agree, but we have to give him a moment to get back to the ship before we go or he might see us." Morally concluded as they slowly began walking towards the beam out site, their feet once again crunching the gravel. He was beginning to worry about Tom. The surprise in the pilot's eyes simply from being given a kind word was not right and he needed to understand what was going on. He glanced at Elgaro and noticed a frown marring his dark features.  
  
"What's wrong?" Elgaro turned confused eyes on him a moment and then looked momentarily at their feet.  
  
"I couldn't hear the gravel beneath his feet when he walked." They continued the rest of their walk in silence.  
  
((/\))  
  
"Concentrate cadet. Do not hesitate when the choice you will make is possibly the last. Know what you are going to do without thinking." Sul'Ta studied Cadet Paris's each movement carefully. The boy's features were still, his eyes focused once again on the wires within the panel. One false move and he could be killed. The three times they had done this previously had ended in disaster when Thomas had blended the wires incorrectly. It was a delicate procedure, the weapons systems of any starship when tampered with in such a manner were highly unstable. The fourteen year olds hands moved smoothly, there was no indication of a tremor to disrupt his work. There was however beads of sweat forming along his hairline. That was allowable.  
  
"Sir, weapons have been rerouted to initiate warp core overload on my command. All traces of tampering have been destroyed and blended into regular systems functions. Weapons will continue to function within normal parameters Sir." The clipped and professional tone was confident, Sul'ta nodded in satisfaction. The boy was smart. This was a procedure most seasoned engineers wouldn't contemplate. Then of course, it was highly illegal and unnecessary to most of Starfleet's people. Sul'Ta ended the holodecks simulation and headed to the door, Cadet Paris following quietly. Next week they would perform this procedure on a real ship. Neither of their footsteps could be heard as they walked down the hall towards the physical training grounds.  
  
Tuvok gazed out at the stars. The Tubbles planet was on the other side of the ship. He preferred the darkness when he needed to think. The night before he had had the dream of his father teaching a young Tom Paris highly unorthodox workings of a ships inner systems. As much as Tuvok did not like admitting to himself, he did not know what to think of this memory from his father.  
  
He had a deeply set respect for the deceased Vulcan. He had grown up under his teachings and while at first Tuvok had resisted he found himself envious of his fathers self-control. When he had turned twenty his father had left for a long-term position in one of Starfleet's distant projects. They had kept in short communication throughout his missing years, and of course they spoke in person when Sul'Ta returned after 7 years away for the ritual Ponn Farr with his wife. Tuvok had never thought it strange that work was never spoken about. It was accepted that it was a private matter not to be discussed unless it involved problems directly pertaining to family. However this memory of a young Mr. Paris learning how to wire starship internal systems was…disturbing.  
  
With such an insight Tuvok was forced to think of security. If Tom had been that well trained at the age of fourteen, it was impossible to determine how much he knew now. What he could do with the information, how he may, or possibly already has, interfered with Voyagers systems. And what of the advanced shuttle the Delta Flyer? It was designed and built by Tom. The conn, astrometrics, communications, the warp core systems, medical apparatuses, holodecks, replicator's, weapons, transportation…the list went on, and these were things Tom had access to everyday.  
  
But Tuvok didn't believe that Tom had ever sabotaged or would ever sabotage Voyager's systems, the thought that it could easily happen though was not encouraging. Then there was the question as to why Tom had never leaned on his apparent knowledge in Voyager's times of crises. There was no doubt, with the speculation that Tom was a so called "Niktarus," that his skills would have highly benefited Voyager in possibly every situation they had gotten into. But this was also hypothetical thinking and Tuvok had no concrete evidence to prove his theories. In all fairness it was possible his fathers memories could have been warped to believe he had been teaching Thomas such difficult and advanced procedures, when it had simply been basic navigation rerouting tactics at a private school. Tom Paris was the son of Admiral Owen Paris after all. They spare no expense.  
  
The doors to the observation room opened and Tuvok turned to see the man currently in his thoughts standing just inside the doors.  
  
"Tuvok, sorry to interrupt. I'll come back later." He turned quickly and the door automatically opened again to allow the pilot to exit but Tuvok called out before the young man had the chance to escape.  
  
"Mr. Paris. I would like to speak with you." Tuvok noted how the pilot hesitated briefly before swiftly turning around and coming back into the room. He'd seen the act of hesitation on Mr. Paris ever since the Marquis and Starfleet crews had emerged. Tuvok had long ago considered the action as a moment to gather thoughts, or control emotions. It was a common trait among Vulcan's, and non-Vulcan students.  
  
"What's on your mind Tuvok." Tom's gaze was sharp and wary, more so than usual, as he walked up to join Tuvok at the view port. They both looked out at the stars.  
  
"My father." The Vulcan stated. "It was three years ago this day that he died." Tom was silent for a long moment. A moment that almost made the Vulcan uncomfortable.  
  
"How could you know that? As I understand Voyager was not in contact with the Delta Quadrant then."  
  
"It is a Vulcan passage ritual. As the father dies his memories are passed on to his children. This ritual is not shared with anyone outside of our species, so I trust you will not spread our cultures sacred secrets."  
  
"You have my word." Tom stated firmly, and then his gaze, sharp as a bat'leth turned on Tuvok. "Why are you telling me this?" Tuvok looked calmly into the man's eyes, knowing that Tom had already figured it out but wanted his thoughts confirmed.  
  
"You deserve to know of Sul'Ta's death, as he was as much a father to you as he was to me." Tuvok watched Tom carefully for a reaction. The Vulcan didn't really know much about Tom's relationship with his father, but he was sure it had been a long one. Whether it was the way a father son or student mentor relationship should be, Tuvok was uncertain.  
  
"How much do you know?" Tom asked quietly, and Tuvok noted that his eyes had turned to an odd shade of gray.  
  
"Of your time learning under my father, not much. Of where and what you were learning I have suspicions, but none are certain. I would like you to answer some questions I have about your upbringing in the private school you attended, as well as your past year serving as a Niktarus." Tom's face remained emotionless, like stone as he stared into Tuvok's eyes. The Vulcan was impressed as always with the human's level of control but he was concerned by it. It was something that took years of practice to achieve, and it was something Tom used when he was highly unsure of what to do in a situation personally involving himself. Tuvok suspected that this insight to Tom's personality was something passed to him by his father.  
  
"The Niktarus is no concern to you or anyone else. Neither is the school which I was brought up in. It was a simple advanced academy private school, training pre Starfleet cadets and talented children. Forget about it."  
  
"Pre-Starfleet academies do not train children in the art of warfare and combat."  
  
"Tuvok, I understand you may have some memories from your father, but with all due respect we were not trained…"  
  
"And with all due respect I ask that you stop lying to me Tom Paris." Tuvok's gaze remained calm, as did Tom's. If anyone walked in they would have thought the two were having a simple conversation about a card game, not something which Tom knew could one day result in life or death.  
  
"Tuvok. I am going to ask you to ignore what you think you know, because it is not the truth."  
  
"Who are you protecting?"  
  
"No one."  
  
"Then why is the truth so difficult to speak of." Tom's hardened gaze flickered a moment, emotion too brief to classify glazed across his aluminum coloured eyes. Tuvok watched him intently, trying to pry an answer from the stubborn man.  
  
"The truth," Tom finally spoke, his voice softer but still calm, "has never been spoken before Tuvok. And it's not going to start here. Please understand that it is not something that can just be told without repercussions. Truth is dangerous, deadly in this case, and it doesn't matter whether the enemy knows you know the truth, or thinks you might know the truth. In the end the innocent always die."  
  
"Like Caldik Prime."  
  
"Like everything Tuvok. Like everything." They stared at each other. Tuvok understanding that what Tom was saying was the truth, but not enough of it. There had been deeds performed by Starfleet in the past that have been severe enough to almost destroy the organization. He suspected that Tom Paris was a victim of something that only a few top Starfleet officials knew about. Reasons like safety for those choosing to involve themselves did not disturb Tuvok, and were not reason enough to hide the truth. Eventually Captain Janeway, himself and whoever else they choose to involve would get to the bottom of Tom's secrets. They had to start somewhere, and Tuvok wasn't one who would allow a friend to suffer needlessly.  
  
"Tom," The slip of formal address was noticed by both men immediately and Tuvok paused a moment in Vulcan surprise before correcting himself. "Mr. Paris. I would like you to join Captain Janeway and I in her ready room. We need to discuss the actions of this past year and the reasons pertaining to them." Tom finally looked sad, breaking his mask as though it were too much of a burden to carry.  
  
"Tuvok, I can't do that."  
  
"I was not aware of it being a request Mr. Paris. I am ordering you to join me with the captain in her ready room."  
  
"And I'm afraid I'm going to have to be insubordinate Tuvok."  
  
"I will call security to assist." Tuvok warned for a final time. Tom didn't give him a chance to raise his arm to his commbadge as Tuvok found his arms twisted, pinned securely behind his back, and Tom standing behind him.  
  
"I'm sorry Tuvok, I can't let you do that. Tell the crew I'm sorry that I'm doing this again, if any of them care enough to give a damn."  
  
"Mr. Paris" Tuvok didn't say anything else as he felt Tom's hand pinch the base of his neck, knocking him unconscious. Tom held the heavy man a moment and breathed a long sorrow filled sigh before easily picking him up and placing him in the corner of the room, completely out of sight unless someone was specifically looking for him. And then he hurried out of the room, with his mask firmly back in place.  
  
Tom had gone to the observation room for a few moments of silence, instead he found himself rushing ahead in his plan. Tuvok would wake up soon and Tom wanted to be gone by then.  
  
  
  
((/\))  
  
Morally and Elgaro had beamed aboard Voyager an hour ago intent on speaking with captain Janeway right away. Then Elgaro had decided that they couldn't approach the Captain with superstitions so they had paused at a console to determine exactly who the Kinkari were and where they came from, their connections to Tom etc… It had taken a lot longer for Voyager's system to look up the alien species, there was something slowing down the search parameters of the history database. So now, one hour later (after they had fixed the problem being engineers and all) they were heading to engineering where Captain Janeway was no doubt speaking with Lieutenant Torres.  
  
"I don't understand it captain. Up until twenty minutes ago all command systems were working perfectly and now they're sluggish, it doesn't matter what is being asked of them. I have people working on the problem and thankfully it's only disrupting the ships most minor systems, but I don't know what has brought it on." Janeway listened carefully as she gazed at a console providing all the evidence for Torres's explanation. Elgaro immediately found it interesting that so many minor systems should be fritzing out. Morally didn't seem to care.  
  
"Captain. We need to speak with you a moment." They stood stiffly at attention as she quickly looked them over, assessing if their current problem was enough to warrant attention without even knowing what it was. Elgaro decided to elaborate.  
  
"It's concerning Tom Paris." B'Elanna turned and watched them now and it was clear that they had Janeway's undivided attention.  
  
"What is it ensigns?"  
  
"We came across him planet side approximately two hours ago. He was being confronted by a Kinkari, the same species that he left Voyager with to work for last year." Morally explained unnecessarily, because none of the senior crew of Voyager could forget who the Kinkari were.  
  
"The being was calling him "Elsar" and asking him to meet with someone called Imod, and that it was an appointment Tom could find beneficial." Elgaro continued. "Tom threatened him, saying something about being one of the best of the Niktarus. We couldn't find anything describing what a Niktarus was, but the language data base described "Elsar" as unknown. We split the word up into El and sar. It's description was confusing, something about changing demeanor and colour in brief moments."  
  
"Was this being threatening Mr. Paris in any way?" Morally hesitated before answering.  
  
"No Captain. He was requesting a meeting for his superior and that seemed to make Tom…Mr. Paris very angry. He threatened to kill Imod if he saw him, or if he attempted to harm our crew in any way." Janeway stared at him hard for a moment, and despite his training Morally found himself shuffling from one foot to another for a brief second before realizing what he was doing.  
  
"Are you sure of this Ensign Morally? Are you absolutely positive that that is what you heard?"  
  
"Yes Ma'am." He answered confidently.  
  
"Ensign Elgaro. Will you support his statement?"  
  
"Yes Captain. That is what Tom Paris said."  
  
"I want a full report on this incident written and handed in to me within the hour."  
  
"Aye Captain." They both answered and began to turn away, but they were called back to attention when Janeway called their names.  
  
"Thank you for informing me of this, most people would have ignored it."  
  
"It was our duty to the ship and as a friend of Tom's to do so Captain." She nodded and they left engineering to write up their reports, not saying anything. They new what she meant when she said most people would have ignored the incident. They should have spoken with Tom sooner.  
  
((/\))  
  
"Captain. What's going on?" Torres demanded, focusing her piercing gaze upon the captain.  
  
"Lieutenant, come to the briefing room with me."  
  
They left engineering walking at a fast pace, side by side.  
  
"Lieutenant Kim." Janeway slapped her commbadge with more force than necessary.  
  
"Yes Captain?"  
  
"I want you to scan all ships docked on the planet for traces of that anomalie and then meet me in the briefing room with your results as soon as possible."  
  
"Aye Captain." The line went dead and Janeway called the rest of the senior staff to a briefing on the overhead system. Then she paged Tom.  
  
"Janeway to Mr. Paris."  
  
"Yes Captain?" She ignored the formal clipped tone that he'd spoken to her with since his return.  
  
"I want you to join the staff in the briefing room in five minutes."  
  
"Yes Captain." He acknowledged. B'Elanna remained quiet the entire walk there.  
  
((/\))  
  
Tom began to jog back to his quarters, his time was running out. Janeway had just called him to the briefing room and would no doubt notice that he wasn't there when he didn't show up. He had just stopped at the holodeck and activated Sandrine's program before running out. He didn't tell her what he had planned but he knew she was suspicious. He had to get to his room, get his packed supplies and leave the ship. Once he did that he could put his plan in action.  
  
  
  
The End.  
  
Author's notes: just kidding. ( Thank you so much for the many kind words! Hope the story will continue to be as good as you all claim! 


	12. Even Hero's 12!

Tom ran down the halls of Voyager, no sound following his footsteps. He was now in what he had proclaimed stealth mode, where nobody would know of his passing. He heard voices ahead and quietly slipped into an alcove, plastering himself against the wall. His clothing, a grey slightly darker than Voyager's walls helped him blend, but the bag strapped to his shoulders took away large and valuable hiding space. The voices of Morally and Elgaro passed by without noticing him and he continued his journey to the transporter room undetected.  
  
He entered quietly but the doors opening alerted the transporter operator to look up just in time to see Tom, dressed in grey, step up to him and knock him out in a single, and harder than necessary uppercut. Tom looked down at the fallen ensign and allowed a small smile to grace his lips before heading to the main controls.  
  
He swung his pack off his shoulders and pulled out a palm sized portable computer. It was built by SEP and he'd stolen it when he'd gone on his fateful last mission. Of course it had been tweaked and updated continuously since then. Pulling off a panel on the transport console he attached his computer to the base of several output systems-check wires. The transporters were the last system on the ship that he had to upload his carefully designed program into. On the computer's screen streams of code began to roll down the side, he read it carefully and in several places added some code of his own. He heard a groan coming from the fallen ensign. Without taking his eyes off the computer he pulled a miniature phaser from its holster on his upper left arm, stunned the man, then quickly sheathed the weapon and plugged in some more codes. After a minute he disconnected his computer and closed the panel.  
  
Standing up Tom punched in the command for a beam out in thirty seconds and began a countdown in his head. He threw his computer roughly back in his pack (it was built for durability) and made sure his bundle was completely closed before stepping over Burkenson and onto the transport pad. He took a last look around the room but wouldn't allow the feelings of nostalgia rise up in him. He'd made up his mind to create this plan and follow through with it two days ago, when they had arrived at Rispi. He'd known that Imod had arrived as soon as rumour spread that another anomaly had been detected. He felt the tingle of the transporter beam and his thoughts once again focused completely on the mission.  
  
((/\))  
  
The blue shimmer of the transporter dissolved and Tom looked quickly around him. There were two other crewmembers heading towards the transporter site, no doubt to go back to the ship. Quickly Tom searched his pack and withdrew a red tunic lined with festive gold trim that he'd bought earlier that morning. He put it on, slung his backpack over one shoulder and headed towards the planet's transportation system. As the crewmembers got closer, he slowed his walk to a more leisurely pace and nodded a greeting at them. Sue Nicoletti and Joe Carey smiled, if somewhat unsure of themselves, as he passed by. When he felt their eyes no longer on him he once again picked up the pace and was soon approaching a row of Mulock's and the rental booth.  
  
The cow-like creatures were treated much like Earth's horse and were one of the main sources of transportation around here. He quickly paid for one for the afternoon, signed a paper saying he'd rented the creature, and then went to choose one. He looked at the five beasts left tied to the posts and saw a bronze one speckled in green. There was something to be said about colour combination, but it appeared the fittest of the group. He untied its reins and jumped onto its bare back. Then securing his pack with a strap across his chest and torso, carefully checking the two watches on his left arm he headed off at a fast pace towards the docking bay.  
  
He had approximately one minute before he was certain Voyager would know he was gone, four minutes before the transporters were set to work and a twenty minute ride ahead of him. Things were looking good.  
  
((/\))  
  
"Janeway to Tuvok." The Captain commed in annoyance. She was standing restlessly in the ready room, the eyes of her senior staff focused on her. Their confusion was obvious.  
  
"Janeway to Tuvok." She tried again. When she got no answer she frowned.  
  
"Computer, locate Lieutenant Commander Tuvok."  
  
"Lieutenant Commander Tuvok is in Observation deck one." The feminine voice answered crisply.  
  
"What is his physical state?"  
  
"He is unconscious." Chakotay stood up abruptly.  
  
"Dispatch a security and medical team to his location."  
  
"Captain? What's going on?" Chakotay demanded. She looked at him worried.  
  
"I don't know Commander, give me a second." He nodded. "Computer. Locate Crewman Paris."  
  
"Crewman Paris is not onboard Voyager."  
  
"WHAT?" B'Elanna erupted from her seat in surprise and Harry was not far behind her. Baytart sat up straighter but remained seated. His eyes sharply focused on the Captain, searching for an answer. Janeway held up her hand for silence.  
  
"When did he leave?"  
  
"14:27 hours"  
  
"What is the current time?"  
  
"14:33 hours."  
  
"It hasn't been that long, we could beam down and bring him back." Chakotay suggested.  
  
"He was supposed to join this meeting wasn't he? Why did he leave?" Baytart asked.  
  
"That's a good question." Janeway ground out and then slapped her combadge again. "Janeway to Ensign Burkenson." There was no answer, she and Chakotay shared a look and then dispatched a medical team. She turned her grey eyes on Harry.  
  
"Lieutenant, go to your station and beam Mr. Paris back onboard, directly into this room."  
  
"Aye Captain." Harry practically ran out onto the bridge.  
  
"Captain? Do you know what's going on?" She sighed, rubbing a hand across her brow a moment before addressing the people in the room.  
  
"Right now I know as much as you about this situation, but I do know more about what might have lead up to it. I want to get Tom back here first and then we'll explain it fully."  
  
"Captain, I don't think we can get him back." Said Harry as he marched back into the room, a frown on his lips.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"He's…" A comm. link cut him off.  
  
"Carey to Captain Janeway."  
  
"Go ahead." She snapped a little harsher than necessary. Carey didn't seem to notice, then again he worked with B'Elanna and was possibly used to it.  
  
"We can't seem to contact Ensign Burkenson for beam up, and Lt. Commander Tuvok was also unreachable."  
  
"We are aware of the situation Lieutenant, we'll get back to you when we have a moment."  
  
"Aye Captain. I also thought I should mention that Mr. Paris left the ship approximately five minutes ago. He seemed to be the last one in the transporter…"The transmission garbled for a moment and then cleared up. "roooom. Um Captain? We're back aboard Voyager."  
  
"Very good, report to the briefing room. Out." She ended the comm. And Harry went right on with his explanation.  
  
"We can't get a transporter lock on anyone on the surface, and we can't beam anyone down either. The systems seem to be locked, I can't access them."  
  
"Then how did Carey get back on the ship?" Baytart now stood to join the rest of the aggravated crew.  
  
"I don't know. We've been locked from the systems but someone has control over them, it's just not us."  
  
"Captain." Tuvok walked into the room and immediately noted the agitation on its occupants' faces.  
  
"Tuvok." She greeted. "What happened?"  
  
"I was discussing 'matters' with Mr. Paris and ordered him to come to the ready room with me. He refused and demonstrated a skilful knowledge of the Vulcan nerve pinch. I assume he has left the ship."  
  
"Do you think this has anything to do with the Niktarus?" Chakotay looked from Janeway to Tuvok, his face tense.  
  
"What's a Niktarus?" B'Elanna demanded. Janeway held up her hand for silence.  
  
"I will explain it to you but first I want Mr. Kim to figure out the transporter situation with Lieutenant Torres's aid. Mr Tuvok, find out what happened with Ensign Burkenson. Chakotay and I will contact the Tubbles and the rest of the crew on surface to keep an eye out for Tom and bring him back here."  
  
"I would advise against that Captain." Tuvok interrupted. "Mr. Paris is obviously more skilled in fighting techniques than we were aware of. If he does not wish to be brought back I highly doubt he will submit easily. He could become dangerous." Janeway looked at Tuvok a moment. She had always trusted his judgment but she wasn't so sure in this case. Everything was moving so fast it seemed like her feet had been swept out from under her. She had to get Tom back and explain everything to the rest of the senior staff. She was pretty certain she knew what went on a little over a year ago, and she wanted the rest of them to understand how badly they all misjudged their friend and crewmember. For now though, she needed to get Tom back and her ship running at full efficiency. She turned to the door when she heard it open and Carey came strolling in.  
  
"Captain. The 52 crewmembers are being beamed up from the surface. I suspect three more minutes and the entire crew will be back on board."  
  
"Who fixed the transporters?"  
  
"No one. As far as I could tell they are working with a mind of their own. I tried to stop it before coming down and got no response from the systems." He sounded flustered Janeway noticed, but she didn't have time to think about that. She turned sharply to look at Kim and Torres.  
  
"I want it fixed now."  
  
"Yes Captain." They both rushed out of the room and Janeway turned back to Carey.  
  
"What happened on the planet?" She asked, and listened to his brief recollection.  
  
((/\))  
  
Gently he pulled the Mulock to a stop and slid off the beast, tying it among other animals along the side of the roads. He'd reached the docking station. It was as large as he'd figured out by the Tubble's schematics. This was perhaps the most modern and technologically advanced place on this half of the planet. He was always impressed by such structures and this was no different as he gazed at the large metal wall that supported a huge part of the station. It was four miles long. Tom shook his head at the sight, gave his Mulock a pat of thanks for the lift and then he began heading towards the entrance gate to the docking station.  
  
This was going to be interesting and hopefully it would work. There were of course many ways to enter the facility without having to go through the main gates, but this was the safest, and easiest.  
  
The docking station gave an access card to every member of every ship that docked there as well as personnel. These access cards allowed entry and exit at any time, but they also provided a signal to the station's main computer saying that any being with an access card was authorized to be within the station. The station had heightened sensors to pick up all species' bio-signatures, keeping a head count and security. If a person was found without a card they would be arrested and an investigation would take place.  
  
Now Tom was fairly certain he could break into the systems and erase his own bio-signature from it but not without taking at least an hour to familiarize himself with the systems and its safeguards. Being given an access card would be one hell of a lot easier.  
  
As he approached the guard he grinned cheerfully, giving a little wave. The guard grinned back and Tom thanked the Lord for friendly aliens. He walked up and held a fist out to the Tubble who reacted likewise and their knuckles brushed each other in greeting reserved for residents on the planet.  
  
"Greetings colourful one." The guard grinned as he looked at Tom's red and gold tunic.  
  
"Good aft and day. You are well I trust?" Tom inquired politely in the customary greeting.  
  
"I am. Tell me red man, I have not seen your species before - yet you appear to live upon this glorious planet. For how long have you resided?" Tom grinned some more; this guard was friendlier than he'd hoped.  
  
"For two full moons, and eight days my friend. I have only been to this station twice before but I hope to come by more often in the future."  
  
"Is this business you appear for?"  
  
"It is. I don't normally dress so for attention." The guard laughed and slapped Tom on the back. Tom laughed with him a moment and waited for the next question. While the man was extremely friendly he knew this was also an interrogation process.  
  
"I suppose not. Tell me, you are here for delivery are you so?"  
  
"That's right. Pro Sub Leader Turnac has sent me with some fine drink for Sub Leader Tobler in thanks for a birth party two nights ago."  
  
"Let's see this drink then." The guard asked and motioned Tom to a nearby table so he could place his bag down and pull out the 'gift.' Tom grinned and after a moment of digging in his grey pack he produced a finely designed twisted glass bottle containing a red liquid and speckles of gold floating within. He'd done some research these past two days and discovered that delivery boys were supposed to dress to match the gift to make it more meaningful; hence his tunic. The guard looked at the bottle with a twinkle in his eye.  
  
"A fine brand and not to cheap as I am told." He made comment and Tom nodded in agreement. He'd bought the bottle earlier that morning from a bar. The bartender was very enthusiastic when he'd explained to him the history of the great twisted tree which a young prince climbed one hundred years before to escape a pack of wild animals. In honour of the tree and prince the liquor was made. It symbolized luck and prosperity. Tom had thought it was a good choice. "What else do you have in the pack?" The guard asked but made no move to check it.  
  
"It is almost a day's journey from Habblick and longer back for the uphill slope. These are provisions for myself and my Mulock." If the guard decided to check the bag than Tom would be discovered. He waited patiently as the guard thought a moment. It also seemed that he had picked up on the language of the Tubbles and dialect of Habblick enough to sound convincing because the guard grinned and handed back the bottle. Tom carefully placed it back in his pack and closed it securely.  
  
"I trust you had a good journey."  
  
"The sun on my face and wind on my back, not much can be better." The guard grinned and they both headed back to his station booth. He went inside a moment and emerged, passing a bronze card about 2cm by 6cm to Tom who took it and performed a slight, graceful bow. The guard nodded and their interview ended. Tom walked through the gates and into the massive docking station.  
  
((/\))  
  
After walking through the station towards his target for five minutes Tom discarded his colourful clothing and useful but no longer needed bottle of liquor. So far so good. He looked at his watch a moment without breaking his stride. The crewmembers of Voyager would have been back onboard and trying to figure out what was going on for thirty minutes. He'd left them pretty much dead in the water for the moment, only they probably didn't realize they had no control over flight either. There was no reason for them to leave the planet so they would remain in orbit as they had been for the past two days. It was a good thing he didn't plan on going back because Janeway was probably furious.  
  
Quickly Tom turned and pretended to be interested in the docking schedule on a screen in front of him as a group of Kinkari passed. He was getting closer to their ship and would need to be more careful now. He slipped behind some crates and pulled the grey hood of his uniform over his head and face. He could see perfectly out of the eyeholes cut into the material and his breathing was not hindered at all. He also pulled on a pair of gloves the same grey as the rest of his material. They felt like a second skin and didn't affect his regular sense of touch.  
  
He then pulled his computer out of his pack and double-checked the distance of the ship from his current location. 1637.28 meters. Not too far. If he kept to the north walls where the crates were stacked and lying around he could easily approach it undetected. Being the middle of the day there wasn't going to be an excessive amount of Kinkari wandering around to detect him.  
  
He reorganized his pack to allow the quickest access to the more immediate items. He checked the phaser on his arm and the one strapped in his waist holster. In one large empty pocket located half way down his leg he placed an advanced version of Voyager's tricorder, and in another tiny pocket along his forearm he placed a laser cutter no larger then a pen. Securely strapping his pack over his shoulders, and, making sure nothing could fall out, he set off quietly towards the ship at a slow jog.  
  
((/\))  
  
It had been thirty-five minutes since Tom had left the ship and the senior staff was once again seated in the briefing room. With the exception of Tuvok they all looked confused, B'Elanna glaring at a padd in front of her and Harry leaning over to look at it as well, his fingers tapping a light rhythm on the black table. Baytart, who felt he had gotten to know the people in this room fairly well over the last year, was watching every individual to gauge their reactions to this situation. He was thoroughly confused with what was going on. For the past twenty minutes he'd been helping B'Elanna with the transporters, trying to figure out where their loss of control began. It had been a bust. Tom, as it was now obvious who had manipulated the systems, had done an extremely thorough job of reconfiguring everything on the transporting system. The most impressive part had been his timed activation, which brought every single member of Voyager back onto the ship. Baytheart had never seen it done before.  
  
Harry Kim had originally been working on that problem with B'Elanna, however Janeway had called him to work on the communications situation. Baytart gathered that Tom had somehow severed all forms of contact off the ship. They could only communicate through their combadges, which Voyager's current pilot thought was a nice gesture of the former pilot. A ship without any form of communication, even one with as few people as Voyager, was time consuming and a major interference of most ship functions.  
  
The Doctor and Seven of Nine were also present. Seven of course was calmly sitting and watching everyone, much like Baytart was. The Doctor was the only one in the room not sitting, and even though he was just a hologram his pacing would probably wear a hole through the floor if he wasn't stopped soon; it was beginning to make Baytart dizzy.  
  
"Take a seat Doctor." Janeway ordered as she and Chakotay strolled into the room. He threw himself into the nearest black chair, obviously eager for the meeting to start. Baytart straightened unconsciously in his seat and waited patiently as they sat down. Janeway wasted no time starting and looked around grimly.  
  
"As we've been informed we are currently unable to communicate off the ship and use the transporter. What's the update?" B'Elanna slammed the padd down and glared at it a moment.  
  
"Harry was right about being locked out. If Tom is the one who's done this, and frankly that would surprise me because whatever he did is one hell of a lot more advanced than Starfleet pilot training, he knows more about Voyager's transporter system than I do. I can't even find the glitch that's causing our lockout. I have my crew on it now, but I doubt we'll find the problem for at least four more hours. I think he's gone into the actual programming and code system and rearranged it. If that's the case I can't verify it until I go through it starting at step one. I don't even want to think about how long that could take and it might not even be the problem." She growled and Harry inched away from her slowly. She didn't notice.  
  
"Okay. What about Communications?" It was Harry's turn to shrug helplessly as he sat straighter.  
  
"Same situation as the transporters. Complete lockout. There is no indication of any tampering except that they won't work. I am certain that whatever he did he didn't do it from the communication console. He must have infiltrated the core database system and wormed his way into communications from there. I'm going to have to start a search from there and I think I'm going to need some help." Janeway pursed her lips and they sat in a moment of thoughtful silence.  
  
"We'll have to send a shuttle down for him then." Chakotay finally suggested.  
  
"That is not an option." Tuvok spoke up. "I stopped on my way here and inspected the shuttles. Each one has been locked down. Systems are functional only to Mr. Paris's voice activation, and a recorded one will not suffice. I suspect an engineering team will take approximately five hours to have one operating under our full control again."  
  
"How about I just go and make a Paris clone to fix all our problems." The Doctor mumbled.  
  
"I do not think a clone will be beneficial in this situation." Seven added. The Doctor cast an annoyed glance at her, refraining from comment.  
  
"Tuvok, have weapons been tampered with?"  
  
"They have not been touched."  
  
"Well that's a relief." B'Elanna sneered. "At least he left us with something."  
  
"That is inaccurate." Seven argued. "Mr. Paris has only castrated our chances of his pursuit."  
  
"Not the way I would have phrased it but Seven is right."  
  
"What is going on Captain? Why would he do this? And why now? If he's had these capabilities all along he could have done this a month ago." Baytart pointed out.  
  
"I'm still not sure what's going on, but I think it's time I straightened up Mr. Paris's situation of the past year as best I understand it. Keep in mind this is a theory put together by facts gathered since his return." They all nodded and she took a moment to gather her thoughts before looking at each of them in turn.  
  
"When Tom left he said it was for a better life. He supposedly joined the Kinkari as a pilot and that was the end of it. Three weeks after we departed from the Kinkari home world we came across a wormhole that we all know took us four years closer to our destination. I have reason to believe that Tom's departure has something to do with that worm hole."  
  
"You can't be serious." B'Elanna started to interrupt but stopped at a look from Chakotay. Baytart surmised that the Commander had already discussed this possibility with the Captain. Baytart himself felt his eyes widening at the new information. Janeway continued.  
  
"Earlier today Seven informed Chakotay and I that Tom is currently carrying the title 'Niktarus,' which he no doubt adopted on his year off the ship. A Niktarus is a skilled hand-to-hand combat fighter trained and pitted against other Niktarus for gambling pleasures. We believe," she indicated Chakotay and Tuvok, "that Tom has been previously trained with these skills and traded his fighting services in order for the anomaly to send us closer to home. That is why he left."  
  
"I can support the fighting part from my medical scans though I'm not going to go into any more detail." The Doctor pointed out, however he didn't have anything more to say as he contemplated what Janeway had just told him. Baytart was stunned, and he could tell that Harry and B'Elanna were not taking this information well.  
  
"That doesn't make sense." B'Elanna sputtered. "He wouldn't leave us just to send us four years closer to home…"  
  
"Unless he'd planned for us to be sent all the way home and his plan backfired." Harry continued. A slow clapping startled them all and they looked to the side of the room where U was standing, shaking his head in slight amusement.  
  
"I'm impressed." He looked around at them, ceasing his applause. "And to think it only took you an entire year to come to a conclusion that I personally think was blatantly obvious in the first place. Yet as much as I pretend to understand human emotions I think I have a lot to learn yet."  
  
"Unless you're here to give us more information your mockery is not necessary." Chakotay glared at the man and U shook his head, lightly grinning.  
  
"Emotions and pride will get the better of you all I think. Especially Tom. You know, he is perhaps the stupidest, smartest, most loyal and most feared mortal I have met in my short life. I hope to meet more like him. I'd even like to meet him again sometime, though I don't know how much longer he'll be around."  
  
"What do you mean by that?" Janeway demanded, rising from her seat.  
  
"You have just proven to me how smart you can all be, maybe you can figure it out before a year is up this time." U snapped and then left them alone. The silence weighed heavily on their shoulders a moment.  
  
"I want those transporters, shuttles and communications systems back and running as soon as possible. We let Tom disappear on us once, I'm not planning on letting him do it again."  
  
"Yes Captain." Baytart stood with the rest of the crew and rushed out with them to try and fix the haywire systems. He didn't even notice that they hadn't been formally dismissed.  
  
Tuvok and Chakotay remained behind a moment.  
  
"Captain. I believe that Mr. Paris is not planning on coming back. He apologized to me and asked me to relay the apology to the rest of the crew."  
  
"That won't be necessary Tuvok." She looked fiercely into his eyes. "He can apologize to us in person, right after we apologize to him." 


	13. Even hero's 13

Tom stopped and crouched behind a large crate as he slung his bag off his shoulder, pulled out four identical items and closed the bag again. He paused and listened for anyone approaching before picking one of them off the floor. He turned it over in his hands and switched the small device on, feeling a very slight tremor run through it. Each one was the size of his hand, two of them had straps attached to them, and the other two had handles that easily fit the grip of his hand. The other side of the objects was flat, smooth and made of a black spongy material. This was his mountain gear, or to be more precise his 'ship gear.' The straps held nicely to his knees and when climbing solid surfaces the black sponge acted as a suction cup, attaching to surfaces that were imperfect and able to carry three hundred pounds each.  
  
He began strapping them to his knees, turning them all on. He needed to get inside the ship that was looming above him undetected; that meant he couldn't go through the front doors or ask for an invitation. Quickly he checked fishing line thin metal cords and their hooks coming out of his uniform on both sides of his trim waist. His uniform, designed by the best of SEP and remade during his time on Voyager, was strong and also had a built in harness, which he could attach to his climbing tools if he needed a rest or the use of his arms. When everything checked out he re-strapped his bag to his back.  
  
He looked up at the underbelly of the ship. It was huge, a good size larger than Voyager, though Tom was sure the size was solely for the training gyms, barracks and stadium. A traveling circus he'd heard a man call it once. He thought the title fit perfectly.  
  
Ten meters away was one of the ship's six landing supports located at the back and right hand side of the ship. Eighty meters higher was the ship's weapons room, and the torpedo bays. Tom intended to enter that way.  
  
He picked up his hand held suction cups and waited a moment for the coast to be clear, then he ran across the open space and jumped up the landing leg, firmly pressing the cups to the surface. They held firmly and he hung there for a moment before climbing up to the top of the landing gear, using just his arms. A moment later he swung his knees up to the ships underbelly, fully attaching himself to its surface. Then, slowly, he began his completely horizontal climb under the ship towards the edges where he would eventually be climbing vertically towards the torpedo shafts.  
  
He froze suddenly as two Kinkari appeared and decided to stop to have a chat ten meters beneath him. Tom remained absolutely still. His gray suit, matching the ship's hull as he had planned, kept him camouflaged from their easy view, but it didn't make him invisible. A moment later they moved on and he let out a breath of relief and continued. A song crept into his mind that his sister had taught him so long ago, a devious smile crossed his lips and he hummed it quietly to himself, singing the words in his head. *Spiderman, Spiderman, does whatever a spider can…*  
  
**  
  
Thirty minutes of solid climbing brought him half way to his destination. The pilot freed his left hand and attached his metal cord to the cup. He did the same thing with his other and then sat down in his suit in mid air. It would have looked like he was floating, except that he had found a crevice of metal to hide him from anyone who might feel the urge to look up. He had been lucky so far, and the higher he got the less likely he would be spotted. Luckily on this side of the ship there were no barracks, and therefore few view ports. Those that were there were easily avoided.  
  
He carefully pulled off his pack, rested it in his lap, and pulled out his mini computer to check on Voyager's stats. So far they hadn't made much leeway, as he'd planned, but it was time to throw another monkey wrench into their lives. He accessed his computer and the words "Navigational Control" crossed the screen briefly before being replaced by several symbols. Quickly Tom punched in his code and packed it away once again. He now had two hours to finish his plan.  
  
((/\))  
  
B'Elanna tore a panel out of the wall in engineering and began to reroute several crossed wires. She still wasn't sure what it was that Tom had done to the transporters, and for the last hour she had been stumped trying to find a solution. The damn cocky pilot had decided to once again make her life difficult, only this time instead of being furious she was worried, and confused. Since when could Tom overtake a Starship single-handedly?  
  
A slight rise in the constant hum of engineering drew her attention away from her task and she glared over at the warp core. A moment later she felt the floor begin to lightly vibrate beneath her feet, in tune with the warp core. What the hell?!  
  
"Torres to bridge"  
  
"Go ahead." Chakotay's patient voice filtered through her comm. link.  
  
"Why are we moving? I wasn't aware that we were going to be departing any time soon!"  
  
"Neither were we. Something has taken over the navigational systems, we're currently in flight away from the planet. Destination unknown. Tom's been a little busier than we hoped." His dry voice held no humor and she stared at the warp core a moment in disbelief. Now Tom had completely taken over the ship. They hadn't even thought of checking the ships navigation systems for signs of tampering. This was like a trip through the twilight zone.  
  
"I'll come up and help Baytart with an analysis and we'll try to figure out what's going on from there."  
  
"See you in a minute."  
  
She didn't bother to respond as she grabbed a couple tools and headed towards the bridge. At least the lifts were working..  
  
…Ten minutes later…  
  
"He's connected everything somehow and is running it from wherever he is" Baytart exclaimed as he and B'Elanna stood at his station and glared at the controls as if it was their fault they weren't responding correctly. B'Elanna turned to look at the Captain. Everyone on the bridge was paying close attention to everything that was said, hoping to discover something that could help regain control of the ship.  
  
"Searching for a direct problem or point of problem isn't an option because he's taken control from multi-ports. We have to find every chain of code and every single wire, circuit and whatever else he's gone through to dominate the systems. To top it off he's left a trail of breadcrumbs all over which no doubt lead to a dead end. He's completely wiped-out or hidden his trail. It'll take us weeks to pull everything back into full control." Janeway listened carefully to her chief engineer and watched her chief conn officer nodding slightly in agreement.  
  
She liked to think she was always prepared to handle any type of situation, even possible betrayal from her crewmembers, which had occurred in the past. She had not, however, expected this. Where are you taking us Tom Paris?  
  
"Okay. I don't care how long it takes I want these systems back. First work on stopping the ship, we'll go into more detail from there. Keep as many personnel working on the other problems as possible. Pull people in from security, astrometrics, hydroponics, science, anywhere they can be spared."  
  
"Yes Captain."  
  
"Lieutenant Kim, keep trying to fix communications. And all of you, if you can come up with any idea of what Tom is up to inform me immediately." There was a chorus of 'Yes Ma'am' and 'Aye Captain' as they dispersed to carry on with their work. Janeway headed back into her briefing room and sat down for a moment, deciding where she would help.  
  
"Feeling the pressure are we Captain?" An unexpected voice interrupted her thoughts. She was no longer surprised at U making an appearance, as he had been jumping in and out of staff meetings for weeks now, sometimes not saying anything, other times talking about nothing.  
  
"What can I help you with U?"  
  
"Oh nothing, I'm just checking in. Seeing how things are running. As I can tell they are going quite well, of course I suppose that depends on whose point of view you're looking from."  
  
"And why would Tom think this is going well?" She asked, hoping to trick him into giving away information. He'd been amazingly tight lipped with it over these few weeks.  
  
"Oh, Tom hardly ever thinks things are going well Captain. Not for the last year at least. No, no. This is going well for you. Do you honestly think Tom would be going to all this effort to cause you trouble? I thought you were beginning to understand the situation."  
  
"I understand that he has taken over my ship and left. Again. I don't find this very beneficial no matter what plans he has for the better. It obviously isn't going to be better for him."  
  
"No, no. I suppose you're right. But that is the way he has chosen it. Now I know what you are planning to do, and that's to go back and get him. When you do figure out what's going on however, I'm not so certain you'll be as willing to do that." He looked at her carefully and then disappeared. She sighed in frustration and stood up to go help with the navigational problem, contemplating what U might have meant.  
  
((/\))  
  
Tom crouched over and ran quickly up the torpedo's long passage until he reached the loading doors. They were smooth and there was no way to open them, like Tom had suspected. Kneeling he wiped a bit of sweat from his brow and then went into the pocket on his arm, pulling out his laser cutter, previously a surgical scalpel altered to cut through metal. He also pulled out his tricorder. Quickly he scanned the smooth hatch in front of him until he found the locking mechanisms. He put the tricorder away and began to cut through the metal with his laser. Two minutes later the door swung open and he carefully jumped out, onto the deck of Imod's weapon room.  
  
He pulled of his mask, ignoring the smell of grease, metal, and weapon chemical fumes as he put his cutter away and once again pulled out a tricorder. A phaser was gripped in his other hand. He headed to where he suspected the door to be, and then into the hall, silently making his way to the wormhole's operation room and engineering center. It didn't take long, as he had a fairly good lay out of the ship stored in his memory. He might have spent a year aboard this thing as a prisoner, but that didn't mean he'd remained dormant.  
  
Half way to his destination however, he ran into a slight problem. He heard the sound of approaching boots and he was stuck halfway between corridors. With nowhere handy to hide he stood there and aimed his phaser. From the sound of it, it was just one person, and their footfalls were familiar.  
  
A moment later an unguarded Kinkari trainer rounded the corner and froze in shock. Long seconds ticked by and he still didn't dare to move and his shocked face slowly turned to recognition and then fear.  
  
"Elsar! You're back!"  
  
"So it seems. Come here, now."  
  
The Kinkari jumped at the order but moved quickly to him, not even bothering to try and run away. When they were standing side-by-side Tom pulled out a pair of small arm restraints and locked the Kinkari's hands in front. He could feel the man tremble slightly under his hand. Not so tough when you don't have me under lock and chain are you? Tom pulled the silent Kinkari along with him down the corridors and they finally reached his destination.  
  
"The code" Tom demanded as they paused at the door. Every locked entrance on the entire ship had the same access code, the problem was that Imod changed it every three days so the ones Tom did know were useless. Normally he would have hacked into the locking mechanism but this was easier.  
  
"What do you plan to do in there?"  
  
Tom's grip tightened slightly on the Kinkari's arm. "The code."  
  
"Alish, haz, mato'k, haz" The prisoner stammered and Tom gazed at the symbols in thought. He should have learned to read the language as well.  
  
"Punch them in." He ordered the Kinkari, who lifted shaky fingers to the panel. The door slid smoothly open and they both went inside. Immediately Tom closed the door and had his prisoner sit down in the center of the room.  
  
"Don't move" he ordered and the man nodded his head vigorously. Tom began to unpack some small instruments from his bag, picking up a metal square he walked quickly to the door and placed it over the key padd. It attached itself securely and he punched in four random codes. This door now needed the new code to enter. Of course once the problem was discovered Imod could have his men cut through the door itself, but that would take approximately two hours. The code would take even longer to determine.  
  
Then Tom allowed himself a moment to take a good look at the room. He'd only seen it once before and that was from outside the door. It was built in a circle, the middle of the room, where his prisoner sat, was bare. However hanging above the area was a circular orb the size of a baseball, which could be lowered on command. Tom suspected that was the map and navigation aid. Lining the walls completely were computer view screens and input screens. Towards the far end of the room were the consoles, approximately eight meters in length and one meter in width. Tom headed there with his computer and tricorder.  
  
Scanning quickly he found the bypass conduit that he needed in order to turn the systems on. He peeled off a metal panel with the aid of his laser and began to wire his computer into the system.  
  
"Don't move Kinkari" He warned as he heard a shuffle coming from the middle of the room. The shuffling stopped. After a moment Tom leaned back from the panel and stared at it in thought. He checked his watch. One hour and ten minutes until Voyager reached its destination. He left his computer, picked up the symbol translator he'd brought with him and began reading all the symbols on the consoles, hoping to quickly figure out how to work the wormhole technology. His computer could gain him access to the systems and with aid of the virus he'd placed in this vessel's system a few months ago he could block any bridge interference. For now though, he needed to figure out how to work it. Where was that manual…  
  
Fifteen minutes later he thought he had it figured out. Actually it wasn't too difficult once you understood the basics. He walked to the center of the room and pushed his Kinkari guest to the side. Then looking up at the sphere hanging temptingly above his head he wondered how to activate it. Something hit the door outside the room and Tom continued looking for a way to access the map. Imod had sent crew to begin breaking through the door five minutes before.  
  
"Whatever it is you're doing, you won't succeed. Our ship is much too advanced for the likes of a fighter" Hashad mocked from his place among the wall. His confidence boosted from his shipmates attempts at rescue. Tom walked to a console and pushed a round gray button. The sphere lowered to waist height and a moment later a 3-D map of their surrounding area flooded the room.  
  
"So you know how to push buttons. A child could do that." Tom glared at the seated Kinkari, the man held his gaze a moment and then turned away silent. Tom went back to work. He located the coordinates where he was sending Voyager and punched them in on the sphere. Then he went back to the consoles and quickly began accessing different monitors, initiating order after order. A dull green light flooded the room in two brief flashes and things went back to normal. It was done; he'd succeeded. He packed away his tools in the bag and then set his phaser to vaporize, aimed it at the pile, and eliminated it. He couldn't let the enemy have them, even if they were similar in technology advancement…in a matter of speaking.  
  
Then he slowly made his way across the room from Hashad and slid to the ground, his back propped up by the wall. He'd done it. He'd finally send Voyager home like he had planned to when this whole disaster had begun. He hoped they'd be happy. Slowly he dropped his head to his knees and rested there, eyes closed.  
  
"Stay where you are" He ordered Hashad as he once again heard the being shuffling. As much as he wanted to get Voyager home, he would miss them. It was better this way though, because now he wouldn't have to put up with their anger anymore, and they could all be happy. At this particular second he wasn't too worried about what happened to himself. After looking at and understanding Imod's technology he realized that the Kinkari's threats to bring Voyager back had been empty. It wasn't possible to do that unless Voyager had the technology built on their ship as well, which wasn't the case.  
  
For now he knew that he'd eventually find a way to escape and try to begin another new life in the Delta Quadrant. Who knows, maybe he'd get his own ship. Maybe he'd take Imod's…  
  
The slight whine and sizzle of the laser's cutting through the door were slowly getting louder. Tom gave them an hour at the least before they managed to break through.  
  
((/\))  
  
Harry Kim stood at his station still trying to fix the communications system. So far he wasn't making any progress. As much as he wanted to yell in frustration he remained silent. Now wasn't the time to let his emotions get the better of him; it was the time to work.  
  
He shuffled on his feet and turned to check his scanners. Though they had no current control of their destination, they were keeping track of where they were going, hoping to figure out what Tom had planned. He turned away from the scanners and continued to puzzle over communications when he suddenly realized what the readouts had said. He twisted around so fast he almost fell down and he threw his arms out to grab the console and steady himself. He felt a few eyes avert their attention to his sudden movement but he ignored them as he rapidly performed a few more scans.  
  
"Captain" He called, his eyes remaining glued to the screen. "I'm detecting the beginnings of a rapidly growing wormhole matching the anomaly's signature that we detected at the planet."  
  
"Where is it?"  
  
"It's 5 light-years from here, directly in our flight path. At current speed we will reach it in forty-three minutes."  
  
"Send a probe and find out how long it will remain stable and where it leads to."  
  
"Aye Captain. Probe sent. Awaiting information." The busy hum continued on the bridge as Harry impatiently waited for the probe to send back its readings. This was too much of a coincidence. A few minutes later the probe sent information back to Voyager and Harry read it as fast as he could, his eyes widening at what he was seeing.  
  
"Captain, the wormhole leads to a destination approximately one year away from earth. It would send us home." He looked over at her and Chakotay, amazement in his eyes.  
  
"Call a senior staff meeting, now."  
  
Two minutes later they were once again piled in the briefing room staring at the screen that provided a picture of the anomaly.  
  
"It's too much of a coincidence." Harry voiced his earlier opinion.  
  
"I agree" Janeway said sharply, her eyes focused dangerously on the view screen. "The question is what are we going to do about it?"  
  
"The proper course of action would be to proceed on course and take the wormhole back to the Alpha Quadrant." Tuvok stated calmly. "However we would then be abandoning one of our crew."  
  
"The fact that we can't just turn the ship around not withstanding." B'Elanna growled and slumped in her chair. They ignored her comment.  
  
"If we do regain control of the ship, we have to decide now whether to continue through the wormhole, or go back for Tom." Baytart spoke up, than ducked his head for making such a brash comment.  
  
"In all honesty this situation wouldn't be an option without Tom's interference. I feel we owe it to him to go back." Janeway spoke up. This opportunity was probably the best chance they would have to get home, but she wouldn't be able to live down the guilt from Tom's sacrifice. It didn't mean that others would feel the same way though. She sighed and finally turned and acknowledged each crewmember with her eyes. "We'll equip as many shuttles as necessary (nobody said anything about their current state) with supplies for the crew members who wish to continue through the wormhole. Those of us left will remain in the Delta quadrant and get Tom back. Agreed?" The positive nods around the table gave her the confidence she needed. It meant they believed that they could still get the ship back under control. "Good. Now we need to stop this ship."  
  
"Lieutenant Kim" Tuvok called, gaining everyone's attention. "You stated that Voyager would arrive in the Alpha quadrant approximately one year from Starfleet headquarters?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"That is a long distance of travel without use of navigation and transporters."  
  
"We can fix them." Torres pointed out.  
  
"Yes, but not immediately. I doubt that Mr. Paris would send us into an unknown situation without the ability to regain control of the ship and protect ourselves."  
  
"Which means he must have left instructions on how to reverse his programming on Voyager in a place where we would think of looking" Chakotay said, catching on to Tuvok's theory.  
  
"Brilliant! Just Brilliant! Though I have to say it took you long enough to figure it out! Yes, yes, yes!" U startled them all with his outburst as he jumped around the room waving a fist in excitement. After a moment he looked at their alarmed faces and sobered up a little. It was just so exciting he couldn't help the outburst. Finally they were starting to understand every piece of the puzzle. It was driving him nuts only being able to drop slight hints these past few weeks.  
  
"Well now that we've gotten this far, why don't you tell us where to look?" Chakotay suggested, glaring.  
  
"Sorry, I made a promise to Tom I wouldn't interfere."  
  
"You've been interfering all along U. Why stop now?"  
  
"If and when you people finally get your self-righteous pilot back he isn't going to be to pleased at the fact that his plan failed again. I don't want to take a chance at being blamed." He looked at Harry. "Gambling isn't my thing." The lieutenant's eyes widened in excitement.  
  
"The holodeck! He left it in Sandrine's program!" He jumped up, along with everyone else except Tuvok, who sat there amused…in a Vulcan sort of way.  
  
"B'Elanna and Harry, get to the holodecks and find the programming." They ran out of the room before she'd finished her orders. Nobody noticed the use of informal address. "Everyone else to your stations. I'll be there as soon as I've completed the ship wide announcement." She looked over at U who was sitting in Tom's old sit, and nodded thanks. He smiled and disappeared. She gave a feral grin; finally they were doing something.  
  
((/\))  
  
Almost out of breath from their sprint to the holodeck Harry and B'Elanna burst into the gridded room.  
  
"Computer. Initiate Sandrine's!" Harry puffed, his voice full of excitement. A moment later the adequately lit authentic looking bar surrounded them. For a moment they stood there in silence, looking around. Had it really been over a year since they'd been here? It still seemed so familiar.  
  
"I can't believe we never came here after Tom left" B'Elanna muttered.  
  
"Neither can I. In fact I was quite insulted" A women's voice, thick with an accent grabbed their attention.  
  
"Hello Sandrine" Harry smiled warmly, not wanting to upset her. He'd seen her angry with Tom once and even though she was a hologram he didn't want any of that directed at him.  
  
"Hello yourself monsieur Kim. What do you two want? I am quite busy." She turned her back on them and began cleaning glasses. Harry didn't notice they were already clean. He was actually a little taken aback by her angry greeting. He could tell B'Elanna was too as she watched the woman curiously.  
  
"Is something wrong Sandrine?" he asked and stepped back startled when she turned and glared at him.  
  
"Something wrong? Why do you ask monsieur? What could possibly be wrong except that I won't see my Thomas again and am stuck on a ship full of people who couldn't care less! No no, I'm fine, in fact I'm surprised you asked! I have the right mind not to give you what you came looking for too! I don't see any reason in making your lives better at his sacrifice, but he didn't agree. No Sandrine, he said to me, I have to finish what I started. I can't let them down again. And he didn't! As far as I'm concerned he never did and you two 'ave the nerve to come in here and ask if things are fine!" She slapped her dishtowel on the counter and placed both hands firmly on the surface, glaring. She didn't say anything else.  
  
They stared at her in shock a full minute of silence went by before B'Elanna cocked her head in confusion.  
  
"How do you know we're on a ship?"  
  
"Thomas doesn't lie to me. I have known since he created me."  
  
"You mean your aware that you're a -"  
  
"A hologram? Yes I am aware of that. A sentient one too if it matters to you, but I don't think it does considering how little your real friend meant to you."  
  
"Don't you dare accuse us of not caring for Tom!" B'Elanna yelled stepping forward.  
  
"B'Elanna!" Harry called quietly. "This isn't going to help."  
  
She took a deep breath, forcibly calming down.  
  
"Sandrine." Harry said softly, wincing slightly as her harsh glare was directed at him again. "We need whatever it is Tom left us so we can go back and get him."  
  
"A little difficult now that we are in the Alpha quadrant."  
  
"We haven't gone through the wormhole yet, but we can't stop the ship from traveling through it in approximately half an hour. Please trust me. We are not losing him again." She watched him intently and then after a moment her hard façade crumbled. She turned and grabbled something off the counter behind her, passing it over to him. When he gratefully went to take it from her she held on to it and looked at him fiercely.  
  
"You tell him that if he plans on leaving again I don't want to see him. I am not helping him ruin his life anymore." He nodded and she released the item. It was a holographic data padd.  
  
Harry and B'Elanna immediately began to scour through its contents, their eyes shining with excitement.  
  
"This is…oh he's teaching me everything he knows when he gets back" B'Elanna growled, staring at the screen greedily. Harry tapped his commbadge.  
  
"Kim to Bridge."  
  
"Go ahead." Janeway answered.  
  
"We've got the information he left for us. Have lieutenant Baytart access the central coding of the ship's system. We'll be on the bridge in a few minutes to begin the override."  
  
"Time's running out, lieutenant. Get here fast."  
  
"Yes Ma'am." He ended the communication and looked at B'Elanna.  
  
"We need the emitter" He said and she grinned.  
  
"Torres to transporter room. Lock on to the Doctor's holo-emitter and transport it to holodeck two now." A blue light erupted and Harry grabbed the tool from the bar counter attaching it to the holographic data padd.  
  
"Thank you Sandrine" He called over his shoulder as they ran out of the holodeck. She watched them go and for the first time since this entire mess started she began to relax.  
  
((/\))  
  
"Sickbay to the bridge." The Doctor's annoyed voice chimed through, breaking her line of thought.  
  
"What is it Doctor?"  
  
"Someone has just stolen my holo-emitter. I am stuck in sickbay!" She turned and saw Harry and B'Elanna rush into the room carrying a data pad. It had the Doc's emitter attached to it.  
  
"We're just borrowing it Doctor. You'll have it back when we're through." She cut off his retort and marched to the navigation console where they had begun working.  
  
"How long will this take?"  
  
"Approximately 10 minutes. After that we can reprogram the shuttles for the crew who may wish to leave. Then the communications and transporters; they may take longer considering how many different people have been fiddling around trying to fix them" B'Elanna rattled, keeping her eyes on the padd in front of her as Baytart was looking back and forth plugging in codes.  
  
"Very good, lieutenant Baytart? When you have regained control of the ship I want you to back us a safe distance from the wormhole and wait for further orders."  
  
"Aye Captain" he acknowledged distractedly. She briefly wondered if he hadn't heard what she had said and was just agreeing for the hell of it, then she remembered her crew's ability at multitasking. They were well trained, that was certain.  
  
"Tuvok, you have the bridge. Commander, if you would accompany me to the shuttle bay please." He stood up and followed her to the lift, no comments made. Now she would see who wanted to leave.  
  
The five minute ride was silent and when they reached the shuttle doors she paused a moment. Chakotay's strong hand gripped her shoulder a moment in assurance and déjà vu struck. It didn't seem so long ago when she had last done this, and selfishly she wished for the same results. Squaring her shoulders they walked through the shuttle doors, and for a moment her heart leapt in pride. There was nobody in sight.  
  
A moment later, lieutenant Carey, ensign Vorik and ensign Saunders emerged from behind the Delta Flyer, each equipped with a small bag and Carey holding a data padd. When they noticed Janeway and Chakotay standing there they placed the bags on the ground and approached them, grins on their faces (except Vorik).  
  
"Captain, Commander! We didn't expect to see you here." Carey exclaimed as they stopped in front of them.  
  
"And why wouldn't we be? We can't allow members of our crew to depart without giving them a proper send off." Chakotay answered for Janeway. She was still trying to find words over her disappointment.  
  
"Send off Commander?" Carey's grin suddenly became a little cheeky. "Not until we have Tom Paris back on board."  
  
"We thought we'd bring our tools down here and get the shuttles back in order ASAP." Saunders joined, a small grin covering her pale features.  
  
"Lieutenant Torres sent us instructions on how to regain control of the shuttles. We felt it prudent to have them prepared for Mr. Paris's rescue" Vorik finished and they all held a little staring contest until Janeway's laugh broke the silence.  
  
"Don't let us keep you waiting then! Ensigns, Lieutenant. Thank you." They all nodded at each other and headed back to their task, picking up their bags. Janeway and Chakotay stopped in the corridor, and she sighed in relief.  
  
"I'm considering putting them on report for scaring me like that" She commented, and he chuckled softly.  
  
"I'm sure you can come up with something better than that" he said as they headed back to the bridge. The rest of the way they just grinned evilly as they plotted little acts of revenge.  
  
((/\))  
  
As predicted it had taken an hour before the Kinkari had gained access to the high tech room. Tom had contemplated shooting one of them but considering the number of armed guards they had outside the room his fight would be useless. He couldn't block phaser fire with his arms. In the end it was better if he went silently and planned his way out of this place later. Unfortunately he meant that for who knew how long he was going to be greatly monitored and controlled. Fun.  
  
After they had broken into the room they'd stunned him with a paralyzing weapon and stood around watching him lie helpless on the ground, an occasional boot to the stomach the only activity until Imod arrived. He didn't say much, just walking around Tom in excruciatingly slow circles, glaring down at him with glowing eyes. Tom glared back whenever he cam into his line of vision, but it was really a sad attempt at rebellion. Then when Tom felt his hand begin to tingle as sensation came back a guard stepped forward and roughly hauled his smaller body to an upright position. Imod personally placed the dreaded collar around his neck. Tom bit back a curse, ensuring his features remained emotionless.  
  
When he'd first arrived on this ship they'd used the collar to keep him under their control. He figured it stimulated some nerves in his spine or something because whenever they activated the collar the pain usually drove him to his knees. After a while he'd only had it on during transport through the corridors, but wearing it again really drove home the fact that he was back.  
  
After that Tom pretty much tuned out Imod's 'we have you again and you're not going to get away' speech, glaring at what he deemed were the correct moments. Then he was literally dragged across the ship, still unable to feel his lower body, and tossed into an empty metal cell and left there in the dark.  
  
He was still there, he just had no idea how long. One thing he was certain of though, was that his family was home…almost. He felt the year away from Earth was sort of symbolic in his own twisted sense. Actually he felt kind of bad; he should have sent them directly to Earth. But what was done was done, he couldn't change things and he'd chosen this path so he would live up to his end of the bargain; he may be stuck here, but that didn't mean he had to play nice.  
  
Slowly he began massaging his limbs back into feeling. When that was done he paced his cell as he waited for the next confrontation. He didn't think it would be too long, and about fifteen minutes later his suspicions were proven correct. Two guards came and ordered him to walk in front of them until they arrived at the ship's medical bay. As usual the lights were bright and it smelt even more sterile than the Doc's med bay on Voyager. He'd spent too much time in both places.  
  
They had him strip to his shorts and lie down on the examination table. When he felt the force field lock him into place he sighed.  
  
"You don't sound to happy to be here Elsar." An uninterested voice emerged from his right as the doctor approached him with a scanner programmed to work through the field. Tom ignored him and closed his eyes. Maybe he could get some sleep during the examination; he had a feeling he'd need the rest for later.  
  
((/\))  
  
  
  
"Captain, the communication probe has been launched into the wormhole."  
  
"Good" She commented and silently watched the swirling masses of red and purple on the view screen. Home lay through that wormhole, and all these hardships could end for them if they simply flew through it…she sat taller in her chair and glared at the screen defiantly. She wasn't planning on leaving anyone behind. The communication probe had all the information about Voyager's journeys and crewmembers. Hastily scrawled letters to families had been included. The only thing that had been left out was the current situation with Tom Paris. Janeway wasn't sure, but taking Chakotay and Tuvok's advice they were going to keep their newfound knowledge to themselves. At least for now.  
  
She took one last longing look at the wormhole before ordering Baytart to turn the ship around and head back to Tom's last known location at warp nine. She wanted to get him back on this ship now.  
  
Reports started flooding the bridge from various stations. Carey had finished with the shuttles, the transporter was running smoothly, communications would be fixed in approximately ten minutes. Everything was back under their control and they would be arriving at their destination in approximately twenty minutes. She scanned the bridge without really looking at anything. Her thoughts focused on one fair-haired pilot who was currently not aboard their ship.  
  
Why had Tom done this? For a second time, no less. She loved her crew and would do what she could to get them home, but this was far beyond what she expected from anyone but herself. Even that thought was farfetched because she knew she was incapable of doing whatever Tom was doing. The more she thought about the skills he'd kept hidden from the crew, the more sense it made of situations in the past. Odds that he'd beaten with apparent luck and determination could now be classified as skill, perhaps even something that he'd found easy to handle. It hurt her head to wonder about so many things. One thing she knew for certain was that it wasn't going to be easy working with him unless he was upfront about the situation with her. Somehow she knew that wouldn't be the case.  
  
"Captain. We're approaching the Tubbles planet, scanning for the Kinkari vessel. Receiving hail from planetary officials."  
  
"On screen."  
  
"Captain." The alien's squishy looking face greeted with curiosity. "We had thought you'd continued on your journey. May I ask why you are scanning our docking station?"  
  
"You may, Chancellor. I apologize for our abruptness. We left the planet in a rush and it appears that a visiting ship on your planet had taken one of our crewmembers. We are currently searching for the ship to negotiate his return." The Chancellor watched her intensely for a moment before sighing.  
  
"Apology accepted Captain Janeway. It is a shame you didn't realize your crewmember was missing sooner. Tell me, do you know which ship he has disappeared to?"  
  
"We believe the Kinkari have taken him." She supplied the answer with diplomatic grace and quietly thanked the planet for such kind inhabitants.  
  
"The Kinkari?" He looked to someone off screen and nodded his head after a moment. "The Kinkari vessel departed approximately ten minutes ago. We can give you the direction they headed in but no more than that."  
  
"That is more than enough. Thank you Chancellor." She bowed her head in appreciation and he did the same in return.  
  
"Safe journey to your crew." And he cut off the communication. She turned to look at Harry who had his sight glued to his console.  
  
"Captain, I've picked up their warp trail from the far side of the planet. We can reach their ship in fifteen minutes at warp seven."  
  
"Make that warp 8 lieutenant Baytart" She ordered, feeling the excitement of the bridge crew as they rushed around their duties with new energy. She remained sitting stiffly in her chair, absorbing the energy proudly. She couldn't ask for a better crew.  
  
"Captain we're approaching the Kinkari Vessel. They are currently at warp five."  
  
"Drop speed to match and hail them." Two resounding 'Aye Captain's' met her order and she waited for a response. It didn't take long as the ship replied and she ordered their speaker on screen.  
  
"I am Captain Janeway of the starship -"  
  
"I know who you are captain." The man harshly cut her off, his eyes glowing a fierce red. She focused on glaring just above his eyes to avoid the eerie feeling they gave her. "What I want to know is why you are here?"  
  
"We've come to get our crewman back. We understand he is onboard your ship."  
  
"The only aliens aboard my ship are here voluntarily" He sneered.  
  
"I'm aware of that, but we want him back regardless."  
  
"Perhaps a negotiation is at hand here." He nodded, eyeing her up and down. She nodded at him to continue and he smirked. "You give me your ship, and you may have your crewman back. He is worth more to me than that but he has proven that he is difficult to handle and it may be easier without him."  
  
"Your terms are unreasonable."  
  
"I know that captain, which should drive home the fact that I am not giving him up." The being's eyes flared dangerously and she glared cold steel.  
  
"Captain, they are charging weapons" Tuvok dispassionately informed her. Their communication was cut off.  
  
"Raise shields, evasive maneuvers." Her crew was quick to respond, barely avoiding the missiles that had been launched towards them.  
  
"Captain, they carry adequate fire power but I believe we can defeat them" Tuvok reported, intently focused on his screen.  
  
"Disable their weapons and engines. Chakotay, prepare a boarding team just in case we can't beam him directly aboard." Their ship rocked under the enemy's fire.  
  
"Captain" Harry called from his station. "Permission to go with the away team if they depart?" She looked at him in question a moment and he gave a simple explanation. "I want to begin making it up to him." The ship rocked again.  
  
"Permission granted. Tuvok, report!"  
  
"Shields are down, targeting weapons." They waited an intense moment, Janeway aware that she was holding her breath, her mind racing with alternative fighting strategies in case this didn't work. "Weapons disabled."  
  
"Target their engines!" she snapped and twisted in her seat as she heard the turbolift doors slide open. Neelix walked quickly onto the deck and quickly looked around as he grabbed onto the railing.  
  
"Engines are disabled Captain, their ship is currently dead in the sea." She nodded her approval and turned her attention to Neelix. He knew the bridge rules and barely ever came up anymore unless he had important information.  
  
"Captain" He called and headed quickly over to her, his feet shuffling loudly across the deck. "Captain I was just made aware that this was a Kinkari fighting ship we're chasing." He looked quickly at the ship floating silently on the view screen and for a moment was awed by its size. It was easily three times larger than Voyager herself.  
  
"Your point Neelix?"  
  
"Of course, sorry. This ship is a gambling ship." She nodded to state that she was aware of that. "Gambling ships make a lot of currency, for themselves as well as others. If my memory serves this particular ship is run by a man called Imod. He has technology which creates wormholes, which you obviously know." He paused to take a breath and she looked at him impatiently, hoping he'd hurry up. "Well clearly he travels all over the Delta quadrant with this technology and business, and people who benefit from him wouldn't look to kindly on his being put out of business."  
  
"Are you saying he has allies nearby?"  
  
"Possibly! I mean anything is possible but I would definitely keep an eye out captain." He frowned with her as she contemplated this new information. It was a good thing Neelix came to inform her of this.  
  
"Thank you Neelix. I'll keep that in mind." He nodded and bustled off the bridge, content with the aid he'd provided.  
  
"Harry, any luck finding Tom?"  
  
"Yes captain, he's on deck seven, but I can't get a transporter lock on him. He appears to be enclosed in an individual shield." He jabbed at his console for more information but none came. Janeway slapped her commbadge.  
  
"Commander. You have the go ahead to board the ship. Harry will join you in a moment."  
  
"Aye Captain" He acknowledged. She looked at Harry who was ready to fly down to the transporter room.  
  
"Bring him back safely Lieutenant."  
  
"Yes Ma'am!" He replied and was off the bridge like a shot. She said a small prayer for them and then returned her full attention to the bridge.  
  
"Commander Tuvok, keep an eye out for hostile ships."  
  
((/\))  
  
Tom twisted his head, the only thing he could move, to watch the doctor's movements. The man seemed unconcerned about the ship's shaking, which had occurred moments before, and didn't seem to care that it had stopped. Tom knew it had been a battle, and he assumed that Imod had won considering that the ship was still in one piece…as far as could tell anyway. The slight vibration of the medical forcefield interfered with his ability to feel if the ship's engines were still running or not, not that it mattered all that much at the moment.  
  
What did matter was what the doctor was doing. The scans and tests were completed and he was focused on replicating something out of Tom's line of sight. Whatever it was the Doctor was doing Tom was pretty sure he didn't want to know, and he was even more positive that he would find out very soon.  
  
"Don't look so anxious Elsar" The doctor commented, turning sideways so Tom could clearly see what he was doing. "This is nothing you haven't experienced before." Tom's eyes widened as he watched the doctor examine something invisible at the end of a pair of tweezers, and then place it carefully in a familiar injection tool. Oh hell no! They were not going to put more of those nerve needle things into him! Not again! He began to strain against the forcefield with all his strength. He felt every muscle flex with the effort but he didn't even get a finger to move more then a millimeter. He was sure that his face had turned beet red from the effort.  
  
The doctor turned and approached him, carrying three of the feared tools. Tom desperately tried to struggle again. He liked to think he could handle anything, but right now he did NOT want to be anywhere near those needles. They were by far the most intense pain he'd ever experienced, and he couldn't stop thinking about how much he'd cried when he'd first had them injected. The difference between then and now was that he knew what was coming. He tried one last tactic to turn the doctor away, speaking harshly in the Kinkari tongue.  
  
"If you stick those things in me again then the next time I'm in here it won't matter who's protecting you, you will not walk out alive." He took extra care to make his voice menacing, and for a moment the doctor paused in mid step looking at him in wonder. Then he finished the two steps to the medical bed, taking one of the tools and pressing it to a forcefield free area of flesh on Tom's waist. Tom tightly shut his eyes and gritted his teeth, waiting for the pain he couldn't escape.  
  
"I don't know what your 'Elsar' just finished saying, but if you don't step away from him this second you won't be walking out of here at all." Tom's eyes shot open as Chakotay's confident words rang around the medical bay. He didn't move a muscle as he felt the Doctor's tool press harder into his side, and then disappear all together. He let out a breath of pure relief. He watched as the doctor stepped away from him and raised his arms in surrender.  
  
"Thank you." Chakotay said politely, and then shot him. Tom watched in amazement as the doctor fell to the floor unconscious, banging his head off a table as he fell. He'd wanted to see that happen for so long.  
  
"Hang on Tom" Harry's urgent voice called out to him. "We'll have you free in a moment."  
  
Tom lifted his head as far as he could to see Harry heading towards the medical console and frown at it as he tried to figure out how to disable the forcefield. Chakotay walked quickly past him and bent to make sure the Doctor was unconscious. He stood a moment later and turned to face Tom. It was at that moment that Tom realized what was happening.  
  
"You…what the hell are you doing here?!" he yelled, immediately sorry as he noticed their dismayed faces, but damnit! They were here! It was honest to god Chakotay and Harry! Harry? What was he doing on a rescue mission?  
  
"We managed to regain control of the ship just before entering the wormhole. We came back to get you" Harry said, his eyes sincerely boring into Tom's icy gray ones. He held the gaze a moment before turning his attention back to the console.  
  
"You came back for me?" Tom couldn't help the questions, he was so shocked by the sudden turn of events and, though he tried not to admit it to himself, he was truly happy. They did care after all.  
  
"Of course we did Tom." Harry's serious face once again focused on his. "You're family. I know we let you down, but we'll try to make it up to you." Tom smiled the first genuine grin in over a year.  
  
"You've already made it up to me." Harry smiled and once again turned to the console. Chakotay remained where he was standing, nodding in silent agreement to Harry's argument when suddenly ensign Carr from security ran through the doors and fell down, a hole seeping crimson fluid from his back.  
  
"Look out!" Tom yelled but it was too late. He watched as Harry twisted to face the Kinkari's guns and was shot in the chest. It happened in slow motion, the stunned look on the young man's face before his eyes glassed over. A thin stream of blood trickled from his mouth as his knees gave out and he fell to the floor, his last breath silently exhaled. A moment later an anguished scream pierced the air and Tom turned to watch Chakotay collapse in spasms to the floor, tears flooding down his face as he screamed again in pain. The doctor fell away from the agonized man, dropping the injection tool for the nerve needle. Chakotay cried out again and this time Tom yelled out with him.  
  
"Noooooooooo!" He instantly became aware of everything going on, and his complete inability to do anything. Harry was dead. He was gone! "Noooooo!" he screamed again and struggled with all his might against his prison. He had to get free! He had to kill the Kinkari for this! Each and every one of them!  
  
A comm. badge chirped from Chakotay's squirming form.  
  
"Commander. Voyager is under attack. There are too many ships. The captain is dead and we can't hold out much…" The sound was cut off and an explosion rocked the large ship momentarily. Tom lay there helpless as tears threatened to fall, but he wouldn't let them. He'd killed them. He'd meant to save them and now they were all dead or dying and it was his fault. He glanced towards the medical bay's doors as another officer of Voyager fell through, gasping his last breaths. None of his so-called skills could help them now.  
  
Anger started to boil deep from within him and he took deep gulps of breath as though he were drowning. He had to do something! Even if it was impossible there was always something that could be done, otherwise he wouldn't have survived this long!  
  
"U!!" he screamed, his voice cracking from the strain. "U!"  
  
"What?!" an angered voice yelled back, and was then followed by a more subdued "Oh." Tom twisted his head to look at the being's shocked face as the man snapped his fingers. Time stopped around them and for a moment all that could be heard was Tom's harsh breathing. "You step out to the other side of the universe for a minute and look what happens." The entity sighed, bringing his right hand up to tiredly rub his eyes.  
  
"U. You have to do something!"  
  
"Me?"  
  
"Yes you, U." Tom paused a moment and glared at the alien. "If you'd never brought me back to Voyager they'd all still be alive!"  
  
"If you'd never left Voyager they'd all still be alive!" U shot back, but regretted the words. Tom had just seen his friends die, and it was obvious that he was barely holding it together. U thought hard about all the possibilities, every option he could exercise to fix this horrible situation. He did feel somewhat responsible for the outcome of his attempt to make things right. Obviously they'd turned out wrong. He watched the pilot carefully as the man still struggled to get free of the forcefield. He looked at the bodies of the Voyager crewmen lying, frozen in time, on the floor. He sighed again and looked at Tom carefully.  
  
"I've meddled enough with all your fates, I doubt one more time will make a difference. You make sure you don't abandon them again Thomas Eugene Paris."  
  
"What are you going to do?" the pilot demanded, hope finally glistening in his eyes.  
  
"I'm going to fix things, but I'm warning you, only one person will remember anything that has happened."  
  
"That's fine! Please just bring them back! I can live with the memories," Tom pleaded. U paused a moment, he didn't think he'd ever heard the man sound so desperate.  
  
"I didn't say you would be the one to remember." And he snapped his fingers. 


	14. Even Hero's Final

He'd been walking down the unfamiliar street for the better part of an hour, soaking up the warm rays of the planet's twin suns. The next day Voyager would be leaving and Tom was determined to enjoy the last few hours of his shore leave exploring the many sites of this beautiful city. Actually, beautiful was almost too modest a description. This city, which was the planet's capital, had buildings that were no more than four stories high, and made of solid marble. Pearly coloured trees and multi-coloured flowers were its chief attraction. The main streets of the city were littered with stores selling a large variety of the planet's products. The people were friendly, there always seemed to be some form of background music coming from a hidden speaker or live band. The best thing about the whole atmosphere was that though it was so open and inviting, it wasn't friendly to the point where it became overbearing or suspicious. It was just a beautiful city.  
  
Tom got tired of it fairly quickly and had left the main street's busy area to take a look at the city's back shops. Lo and behold he finally found a bar huddled between two black buildings, and headed there. He had to take a closer look at the place, if only to be the man who had visited the most bars in the Delta Quadrant.  
  
Walking into the building, he casually and thoroughly took in his surroundings. Tables filled every inch of space possible, surrounded by a variety of different sized chairs for the different sized customers. He grinned and headed to the bar, ordering a non-alcoholic beverage, and when he received the red liquid in a bowl he turned in his stool and looked around the room once more, sparing a glance at each occupant. He avoided real alcohol as much as possible, in fact the only time he truly remembered ever being drunk was at Harry's birthday party the year before. He had no tolerance for the stuff.  
  
The establishment was fairly full, the main species present being the Kinkari who lived on this planet, but there were several other species he didn't recognize present as well. Twisting back to face the counter Tom froze, his eyes captured in the sight of a humanoid across the room who was staring at him. The pilot stared back into the deep green eyes that were almost completely surrounded by thick black eyebrows. He held the being's gaze for a moment until the unease crept into Tom's bones. There was something in this alien's gaze, a challenge that put Tom on edge.  
  
Deciding he'd already been there long enough he slid off his stool, nodding a casual thanks to the bartender who was clearing away his now empty bowl, and headed towards the door. He put some effort into looking unthreatening, but it didn't pay off. Three beings stepped up to block his path. Great. A perfect way to end a shore leave: a nice planet, a nice bar, and three large, angry looking ogres. The largest one, standing in the middle of their group, took an intimidating step closer, almost leaning into Tom's personal space.  
  
  
  
"Is there a problem here?" A curious voice interrupted the big mans' advancement and he spun around with his cronies to glare at the intruder. Tom leaned to the side and looked over the larger man's shoulder, a smug smile erupting on his face as he saw Tuvok, Harry, and several other Starfleet crewmembers piled in the door. Tom didn't care how big these goons were, fitting the description of classic bullies he figured a group larger than their own would scare them off. It looked like the seven Starfleet officers, packed together in a threatening manner, were scary enough to chase away the fight.  
  
"No problem here." The big alien's high-pitched and squeaky voice only added to Tom's amusement, but for the grace of Starfleet he held his tongue.  
  
"None at all" Tom quipped. "These gentlemen were just giving me the local greeting weren't you boys." Tom pushed past them as they glared and then stomped off to the bar. He ignored them as he joined his best friend and fellow crewmembers in the doorway.  
  
"Can't stay out of trouble can you Tom?" Harry playfully ribbed, mock punching Tom on the arm.  
  
"You have no idea Harry, no idea." They pushed their way into the street and began making their way back to the center of the city, joking around. Tom casually sidled up to Tuvok, walking in silence a moment before asking his question.  
  
"How did you know I was there and that I needed help?"  
  
"I saw you heading out of the main district of the city, naturally I suspected you would be in need of aid shortly."  
  
"You don't think I can take care of myself eh?" Tom joked. Tuvok raised an eyebrow and glanced briefly at the cocky man.  
  
"I believe, Mr. Paris, that you are far more capable of taking care of yourself than most people I have met. Today I felt it was necessary to provide aid."  
  
Tom's playful cheer was evident in his smile, but if one were to look in his clear blue eyes they would see that he was absorbing and interpreting every word Tuvok spoke carefully. Just as the Vulcan had intended.  
  
"Well I thank you Tuvok, for your ever logical thinking that saved my hide today."  
  
"You are welcome." They reached the city center and everyone split up, Tom heading off with Harry, and Tuvok heading in the opposite direction. After a few minutes the Vulcan sat down on a bench in a perfectly kept garden, appearing to rest, when another man dressed in Starfleet uniform sat beside him.  
  
"Bravo, you have diverted the catastrophe for now."  
  
"Indeed" The Vulcan answered calmly and the man grabbed his shoulder, giving him a shake of congratulations. "Now, tell me why Lieutenant Paris's presence in that bar could have been a catastrophe. I am well aware of his superior fighting skills; he would have been fine."  
  
"I'm sorry, I'm being rather rude aren't I? Here's the deal: 'originally' Tom beats those men into granola. (This term was lost on Tuvok but he was growing used to U's ramblings) Rather impressive for a human but I've come to accept that he isn't from the ordinary gene pool."  
  
"So it would seem."  
  
"Anyway, that fight was the beginning of the chain reaction that resulted in the next year which I don't think I need to rehash for you. To cut a long story short Tom now stays on Voyager and everyone is happy. The end."  
  
  
  
"I highly doubt it is the end. What are the consequences of bringing us back to this time?"  
  
"Consequences? Tuvok, buddy," U looked at him with a know-it-all grin. "I'm just summing this whole mess up as one big thing that was meant to happen. You're worried about the time continuum and all that? Ah, we changed it, things will be different now, but things can and will always be different depending on situations, people and so on. That's the way of the universe, and let's not forget the amount of universes out there, each with a different scenario and outcome…the outcome of one universe doesn't make all that big of a difference, at least not in this case."  
  
"Then why bother changing ours?"  
  
"Hey, a Q has got to have a favorite hangout somewhere in the vast world of worlds. I'll be making an appearance on the ship soon to stir things up. Try to act surprised." Tuvok didn't comment on that as U left Tuvok in peace. He sat there for a while, contemplating his current situation.  
  
He was aware of the proceedings that had taken place previous to this moment, but no one else had any idea of the sacrifices Tom Paris had made on behalf of the ship, or in the end the sacrifice the ship had made for Tom. As security chief on Voyager Tuvok was going to watch Paris more closely, and slowly let the pilot know he was aware of his advanced talents. Perhaps he could convince the man to work with him quietly on ways to improve the ship. Perhaps with someone aware of what he could do Tom would open up more about his situation, and accept help from his family. With a basic plan of action Tuvok stood, satisfied, and noted Tom heading towards him waving a greeting.  
  
"Can I help you Lieutenant?"  
  
"You sure can Commander. Harry and I are going to grab a drink across the street. We were wondering if you'd care to join us?"  
  
"I will, thank you Lieutenant." Tom looked pleased at the acceptance and they headed off to join Harry in companionable silence. With two alcoholic beverages and one fruit concoction they relaxed, safe and, Tuvok was pleased to note, still all together.  
  
  
  
END.  
  
  
  
  
  
That's all Folks. At least for now. Some time in the future I was thinking of writing some short stories based on the secret missions and accomplishments Tom "may" have been involved in on his days aboard voyager. But it all depends on whether or not I find the time ;)  
  
Thank you so much for reading and especially for those who took the time to review (again and again :) It makes the story that much better and worth the time it took to write! If you have any questions as to why I chose to end the story the way I did drop a line and ask for the long winded or short winded answer.  
  
As for all the little story lines I left unresolved…maybe I'll add tidbits of those in other stories, but I am basically leaving it up to your imagination. What's a little more mystery! Don't hold back your creativity and always look to the bright side of life! 


End file.
